BLADE: Last Resort
by VampFan
Summary: 2022 AD: Vampires rule the Earth and the human race. Blade attempts to drive the nocturnal bloodsuckers back in to the shadows...
1. BLADE: Last Resort Prologue and Chapter ...

Marvel Comics and all Marvel characters and the distinctive likenesses thereof are trademarks of Marvel Entertainment Group, Inc. C1998 Marvel Entertainment Group, Inc. All rights reserved. (In other words, I don't own Blade, Bible John, Frank Drake, Deacon Frost, or any other Marvel characters that should pop up in this little vampire story.) Blade created by Marv Wolfman and Gene Colan.

BLADE: Last Resort

**Prologue**

Five years after the events of Bloodhunt (Blade II)

**New York******

            A black Dodge Charger rumbled its way through an industrial park just outside of New York City.  It was followed by a large White box van, and pulled to a stop behind the car.  Blade and Whistler exited their respective vehicles.  As Blade jumped out of the car, he grabbed his sword from the back seat, and swiftly placed it into the scabbard attached to his back.  He remembered for an instant the moment the blade was snapped by Nomak's very bare grip as he then proceeded to slam the broken blade into his chest further—piercing the heart, and ending his miserable existence.  

            His mentor had folded him the new blade for weeks, stronger than the first: coating the titanium, acid-etched blade for days with a silver and garlic compound.  

            The gray-haired man casually limped to the back of the van, and opened the door as Blade opened the bay door of the warehouse.  Whistler flicked his cigarette, and hopped inside the van, and began to extract the weapons and equipment from inside.  

            Blade looked at his partner, his mentor, and smiled as he saw an image of an old man, with the strength of an immortal.  The cancer that was once killing him destroyed by the new blood that coursed through his veins.  He was grateful to have him by his side after what Deacon Frost and his goons did to him.  He was a vampire, but he was glad he was still alive.

            Whistler spotted Blade looking at him, and decided to break him out of his day dream.

            "What the hell are you looking at?"

            "Nothing," Blade replied with a cocky smirk, and then removed his long, leather coat and sword.  

            They killed about thirty suckheads tonight, give or take a few, Blade thought.  Not a bad night's work.  Blade seemed to always have things under control when hunting by himself, but with Whistler there, the kill ratio doubled, every time.

            The warehouse was not at all unlike the one in Los Angeles that they had occupied for about two years.  Two stories and plenty of space.  Wide open in the middle for them to park their vehicles after their nightly patrols was a plus to remain hidden from the outside world.  

            Vampire hunters the world over were being systematically destroyed nightly since the infamous 'Vampires' Night Out'.  Their beloved Dr, Karen Jensen, was found viciously murdered in LA a year ago.  Dr. Jensen had helped in slowing Whistler's change, but eventually, the vampiric disease had total control of his body.

            Again, it seemed Blade would have to save the world, again—but from what?

             Half and hour later, and it seemed the dynamic duo would have some rest.  But that's never the way it goes, is it?  The two heard the suspicious sounds at the same time.  Footsteps.  

            Blade grabbed his sword and holstered his modified Mac-10 to his hip.  Whistler reached for an assault rifle, and headed in the opposite direction.  Seemed once again their base was being infiltrated.  

            Six bodies dropped through the glass ceiling and landed softly on the dusty pavement.  Whistler took out three of them before they made it to the ground, leaving only fiery ashes to fall with the breeze.

            Blade had met the other two with his gun, only getting one vampire.  The other two darted into the maze of the warehouse.  Four more vampires entered either side of the warehouse—Whistler was grabbed from behind, and taken to the middle of the warehouse.  They kicked both of his knees from behind, and he dropped limp to his hands.

            On the other side of the warehouse, Blade had drawn his sword from his back, and quickly decapitated the first of the offending immortals.

            The other was infinitely more skilled than his partner.  Blade wanted answers.

            "You here to offer another truce?  Need me to fix another mistake by the Vampire Nation?"

            The ninja clad vampire answered after a few slashes at Blade's head.

            "No, no truce, only your death." 

            Blade heard Whistler's yells of agony in the other room.  Blade was having a struggle catching this warrior off-guard.  With a clever swing, Blade's sword was knocked down to his side leaving him—and the warrior—open to attack, but Blade was the quicker to advance.  From his left thigh he removed a silver stake and stabbed the vampire in the front of the face, and let it drop with the ashes and bones.

            Blade ran quietly to the other room, but was not in time.  He saw something he hoped he would never have to see, but not before Whistler said his last rights: "I'll see you fuckers in Hell!"  A gun was pointed at the back of Whistler's head, and a three-shot burst of bullets exited the gun and into his skull.  Before his body could fall he was nothing more than ashes.  

            There were about twenty men—all vampires—out there.  Blade would not chance it.  He couldn't chance it.  His revenge would wait.  First he spotted a few glyphs on the back of a couple necks.  There were different clans here.  

            One was Ashe, another Cianteto, and another Dragonetti, and yet another was Faustinas and Lobishomen.  Something had to be going down.  Tribes never worked together, only in offices—never in the field.

            Blade dashed across the warehouse and hopped into his Charger.  Behind him several shots entered through the back window, and took out his taillights.  The sun would be up in less than an hour, and he would go back, and grab the weapons and some equipment.              

Whistler was dead.  A man who raised him like a father, for the second time had died at the hands of the things he hated.  A sick and evil circle this was.  He was tired.  Tired of the fighting, tired of the killing, tired of never getting anywhere with it—as soon as he killed twenty vampires, it seemed as though a hundred more humans had been turned.  

            Why was he fighting them?  To get back for his mother being bitten, and making him the monster that he was?  Nothing would ever come of it, he thought as the helplessness finally got to him.  There is such a thing as too much.  And Blade had had too much.  

**Prague******

**            Damaskinos' frail body lay in the blood pool soaking up the sustenance making him strong again.  His body had been placed there five years ago by an old apprentice, though it looked like he would never rule the Vampire Nation again.  The Vampire Udokeir knew there was a chance Damaskinos the Overlord would not survive even after the blood had been transfused.  But he kept hope alive, as he headed the Counsel until another leader challenged him.  And it was bound to happen one day, and it did.  **

            Actually several vampires tried to take the seven hundred year old vampire Udokeir down, but they all failed, and three separate houses were formed.  The majority of former houses stayed under Udokeir's leadership—knowing he was treating Damaskinos.  Dragonetti, Ashe, Cianteto, Kobejitsu and the twin houses of Faustinas remained in the House of Erebus under Udokeir. 

            The first House to be formed was the House of Shadows comprising of Lemure and Ligaroo.  The second; Lobishomen, Pallintine, Von Esper and Upier tribes created the House of Ancients.  

            A war was initiated this evening by Udokeir.  It was declared on the hunters, the House of Shadows and the House of Ancients.  Soon, the former houses under Erebus would be extinct, Udokeir thought silently to himself in front of the fire erupting in the hearth.  

            He had sent his best warriors to kill the Daywalker and his mentor, the other hunters and all leaders of the opposing Houses.  As he drank the blood from the centuries-old goblet, he smiled in anticipation of bringing the war to the mortals, and eventually ruling over them.  

            Udokeir smoothed his long, shoulder-length moonlighted silver hair—that almost matched his hazel eyes—back along his head.  He looked at his hands which looked a little older then they did the day he was made in the early 12th Century by a nobleman in Greece.  His mentor died before he had the chance to learn the ways of the vampire, but found Damaskinos hunting in his city.  The then eight-hundred year old vampire pureblood was incredibly strong and powerful.  

            Damaskinos would feed in the open and laugh as he was attacked sometimes by ten men at once.  They were all dead in seconds.  And he would feed, gluttonously on their corpses.  One evening after Damaskinos tired of the voyeur, he summoned Udokeir with a simple gesture.  Udokeir, seemingly without control of his own body, was walking to the pureblood vampire.  

            "I can control your thoughts as well as your actions, young Udokeir.  And in time, you will learn to do the same to others—especially to our food," Damaskinos said without looking at the other vampire.  He spoke in a language Udokeir didn't know—the Tongue of the Ancients—but understood when he spoke with his mind.

            Ely Damaskinos' hair was thick and full and blond and long, rapped in a pony-tail behind his neck, draped over the burgundy robe he wore in the chilly Greek winter.  

            Udokeir laughed silently thinking back on the young looking Damaskinos, and the now feeble and crippled body of the Elder.  

            He was brought back to the present when the phone by his side rang.  It startled him, and he thought for a moment of throwing the shiny silver cell phone into the fire, but decided to answer it after curiosity got the better of him.

            "Yes?"

            The voice on the other line told him of Abraham Whistler's death, and that the Daywalker had managed to get away.  Udokeir wasn't surprised in the least.  Blade has managed to fight an army of vampires, and come away without any dust on him.  The man fought more like a god than a mortal.  Must be the rage of his mother falling to the vampire's habits as all turned vampires eventually did due to the uncontrollable thirst.  

            He closed the phone and placed it back on the table and stood up, ready to check on Damaskinos' body.  He was sure nothing would be different, but he always checked.

            Upon entering the medical-looking room, the smell of the blood invigorated Udokeir.  He walked over to the vat which Damaskinos lay in, and talked to him with his mind and Udokeir demanded he be strong enough finally to wake and again rule over his kind, and as if the message had been received, the white and blue arm of the Elder reached out form the vat and grabbed Udokeir's left arm, and pulled himself up from the pool of blood.

            "My lord!" Udokeir said enthusiastically.  He instructed for one of the guards to grab a robe for the Overlord.  He noticed how the Elder looked centuries younger from the blood that had sustained and rehabilitated him for the past half-decade, though he looked a bit swollen, like a tick, from the consumed blood.  

            In Damaskinos' chambers, Udokeir walked in silently, and sat in a chair directly across from the still healing Elder.  He looked him up and down, and saw that he was still quite frail, but the blood once again healed him so that he would be able to walk again shortly, and make an appearance at the Counsel.  This would further his cause of eliminating the other Houses, and would thus begin a war with the mortals—their food.

            "Damaskinos, a lot has changed since your…demise," Udokeir said while crossing his legs.

            "How long has it been, young Udokeir?" asked the Elder.

            "Five years, lord."

            "Five years . . . mere moments.  So, what has changed?"

            "The House of Erebus.  I tried to keep some order, but some of the other Houses felt they could do more without an Overlord, and two other Houses were formed by the Lemure and Ligaroo, and another by Lobishomen, Pallintine, Von Esper and Upier tribes.  They lost their faith in you, lord," Udokeir said looking out the window.

            "Sure, I was dead."

            "But I don't think they will be joining under Erebus, even though you have returned, lord."

            "All's well that ends well, Udo."

            "Well, that is true, Damaskinos.  I have begun to destroy the hunters around the world.  And the other Houses have also suffered major losses, lord."

            "We are at war with each other?"

            "We were not the first to take a casualty, lord...but we take the last."                

            

**Chapter 1**

Fifteen Years later

**New York       2022 A.D.**

**            The tall, black man, formerly known as Eric Brooks, formerly known as Blade, or the Daywalker, stared at himself in the mirror for a moment.  He was looking for the man he used to be—or the monster.  He couldn't see either.  **

            The blood he now consumed slowed his aging that the serum had not been able to control.  No, he didn't drink from live humans, only blood banks and animals.  He and his companions have been shacked up in this inner-city basement for the past three years.  They were always on the run.  During the day, they walked free men; at night they were prey, nothing more than cattle.  Sometimes, they would fight back, the humans, and other times they go without so much as a flinch.

            Blade protected his two companions when the need arose—and it did often.  Rossi, and his father Maximilliano, traveled with Blade for the past fifteen years.  Rossi was five years old then, and Blade had saved the two after a horde of vampires had begun the war with the mortals.  

            It was helpless, and even Blade knew it.  Thousands, maybe millions had begun the assault in America alone that evening, and the rest of the world followed.  During the night, the world officially belonged to the vampires; the day, well people could only drone around like lifeless, soulless people waiting to die.  Some wandered to other territories looking for weapons to fight back with: silver bullets, silver stakes, UV lasers, UV bombs, silver-coated swords.  

            But the vampires were just as clever, and still hired familiars to turn on their race, and though most were never rewarded—they just became a meal—they helped in capturing thousands of humans for slavery.  

            Blade's mind wandered back to his two companions.  Rossi; he's got heart, and he's a little too brave, but wants to defend his human brothers and sisters and fathers and mothers.  His father wants the same, but feels just as helpless as the mythical vampire hunter whom they both now live with, who saved their lives a decade and a half ago.

            Rossi, now twenty years old, was becoming quite the ego—thinking he could change the world.  The older he got, the bigger he got, and the bigger his crazy, suicidal thoughts became.  During the day, he would wander the streets, talking with other so-called vampire hunters, collect weapons, and would train with other fighters.  He was becoming quite proficient in the use of several firearms and weapons, and in martial arts.  The kid was now a man, and along with Rossi's father, Blade protected him like a son.

            Rossi's father would just go with the flow, he figured it was just a phase he was going through, and would eventually give up on the notion of taking on the Vampire Nation.  But he didn't get over it; instead, his will became stronger.  It consumed the young Italian as he witnessed men and woman and children dying in the streets to the vampire plague.  

            The small, but built Rossi walked in the room that was rather lavishly furnished, considering most material things have been hopelessly lost for mortals.  He carried with him a handsome samurai sword, a katana.  Blade noticed a handgun holstered by his shoulder.

            It seems as though Rossi is in a bit over his head, Blade thought as his eyes met the boy's father, and thought the same thing.

            "What have you got there, Rossi?" asked his father, Max looking again to his old friend Eric.

            "It's a sword, pops.  What do you think it is?" was the cocky reply.

            "I mean what's inside your jacket there?"

            "Looks like a gun, doesn't it."

            "But you don't go out at night, son.  Why would you need a gun?"

            "Because I'm tired of not going out at night, dad."

            "Rossi, your dad's right.  You don't need a gun, and you're not going out at night," Blade interjected for his father.

            "Wrong, Eric.  I go out at night; I have the past three nights.  And you know what?  I've bagged two of the bastards on my own, with this piece right here, turned the fuckers to ashes," Rossi said triumphantly. 

            "You've left here, at night, and risked your life, to kill vampires?  Have you lost your mind?" asked his father.

            "No, I've not lost my mind, I've just gained the will to do something that everyone should've done a long time ago—fought back!"

            "You'll die.  You're not a hero.  You're a human and you will die, if you're lucky.  Just because you have a gun and a sword and know how to throw a punch, does not mean you are a hero," Blade said becoming furious with Rossi's disrespect.

            "I can kick ass, and I have.  And at least I'm doing something.  You two run around during the day, and hide like mere rats in the sewers at night.  Pathetic!  And for the past fifteen years, I've had no choice but to live that way with you.  But there are others out there like me, who are making a difference, and one day, we'll change things.  The meek shall inherit the Earth."  

            "We're surviving, which is more than I can say for you.  Each time you go out there to "change the world," you're just asking for a suckhead to bite your ass!" Blade said.

            "I'd rather die than become a slave, or a rat, or a vampire.  And don't think about trying to stop me!"

            "Hehe, ok tough guy, ok.  But first, why don't you show me what you're made of?  C'mon, don't look at your dad I'm talking to you!  You wanna fight vampires, how 'bout you show this old man what you're going to do to them when you're unarmed," Blade said with a smirk to the blushing Rossi.

            "I'm not gonna fight you, Eric.  You're family.  Besides, you're old."

            And with that Blade smacked Rossi across the face, and a second later did it again, and then again, until Rossi threw off his jacket and gun, and threw some punches of his own, which Blade blocked easily enough.

            Rossi attacked repeatedly, using different techniques, all which Blade blocked and struck with his own offense.  The kid, becoming distraught, lunged at Blade and was thrown clear across the room, landing on some boxes hitting the wall.

            Rossi came back again, and used a different technique, a Shaolin fighting style—that surprised Blade he knew, but was quickly tossed to the ground once more.  

            The shock was clearly present on his father's face, as well as Rossi's.  Then it all came back to Rossi, that night so long ago.  He remembered the black-clad man who came to rescue him and his father from the gang of vampires who began to attack humans on the street everywhere.  

            He realized that the legend has lived with him and his father for fifteen years, silently protecting them whenever the need arose.  

            "Blade.  Blade?  You are Blade.  You're Blade!  I remember the night you came to our aid in the street and destroyed the vampires.  They were everywhere, and you took us with you to your warehouse, and you never fought again.  Why did you give up?" Rossi asked.

            "Because they are an entire race, and I am one man.  All of the other hunters are dead, or turned.  And I had had enough.  I couldn't fight anymore."

            "You gave up on humanity, not just yourself!"

            "I wasn't fighting for humanity!  I was fighting for revenge—for my mother!"

            "You were fighting to destroy all vampires, and in effect, you were fighting for us, for the humans."

            Blade only nodded, with his head down slightly.

            "Blade, you can never have your mother back, or anyone else you've lost, but you can help other people before they have to lose someone to this disease that rules the Earth now.  You can help make things the way they were, and put the vampires underground where they belong, like the rats and worms," Rossi said, praying silently that he was getting through Eric's, Blade's thick head.

            Blade turned around and walked away, fast.

            Rossi shook his head, feeling Blade was lost to the world.  He was too cold, too distant.

            Blade walked further into the depths of the building's basement.  He moved more swiftly with each step he skipped.  The last four stories he jumped, and landed without a noise.  He looked around, and then walked too a large, black chest, and blew an inch of dust off.

            It creaked as it was opened—for the first time in almost fifteen years.  Inside was a shiny Titanium, acid-etched sword.  He picked it up, and flicked the safety switch off.  He unsheathed it, and with a swirl, he cut it the air making a sound cutting through the quiet of the subterranean room.

            He sheathed the sword, and placed it on the side.  In another drawer was his flat black Mac-10.  The flashbacks came to him in a torrent of images.  His days with Whistler, killing Deacon Frost, and Nomak, and the thousands of other bloodsuckers over the years, and then it all came to an end with the death of his best friend and mentor, and the invasion of the vampires onto the streets.  

            In the bottom drawer he removed a black vest, and long leather trench coat with red lining.  

            After placing the vest on, the coat was next, and he holstered the Mac-10 to his hip.  With another cut of the dusty air, the sword was placed behind his back.  He grabbed a couple of other weapons; stakes, extra ammo, and a shotgun.  He grabbed a picture of Abraham Whistler.  

            "This is for you, old man."

            He began to ascend the stairs, but stopped, as if he forgot something.  Walking over the chest again, he lifted a cloth, and removed a pair of black Oakley sunglasses, and put them inside his coat pocket, and again trotted up the stairs. 

            Blade entered the first underground floor where they were staying, and stood in the door frame for a minute, until Rossi and Max looked at him.  And when they did, the looks on their faces were priceless, Blade thought.

            "Sun goes down in twenty minutes.  You wanna kill some suckheads?" Blade asked.

            "Yeah!  Hell yeah!" Rossi answered.

            "Then I'm gonna show you how to do it right," he said as he looked at Max.  "You in?"

            Max nodded.  "Someone's got to look after you two."

            Blade tossed the modified Benelli shotgun to Max, and he cocked it.

            The three men exited the building, while the sun hung lowly in the horizon.  Blade placed his glasses on his eyes, and slammed a clip into his gun.  The few remaining people hanging in the streets stared at the three men with firearms and weapons preparing for war.

            Blade handed a bag to Max.

            "UV bombs.  You find yourself being swarmed by the fuckers you start poppin' those things.  It'll fry 'em like the sun.  Always keep a few stakes with you in case you run out of ammo.  And you, don't get cocky.  Don't ever think you're too good.  You do, and you're dead.  Always watch each other's backs."

            "I'm not cocky, I'm just good," Rossi said with a smile.

            Blade gave him a dirty look.

            "C'mon!  I'm kidding.  Besides, I'm just tryin' to lighten the mood.  Dad, you up for this?"

            "Yeah, son.  I'm up for it.  Maybe this is something that should've been done a long time ago." 

            "So, where are we going anyway, Blade?" asked Rossi while putting his katana around his back.

            "I know where the Counsel's HQ is.  Where gonna send a little message to the Vampire Nation."

            "And what's that?"

            "That the baddest mutha fucker they ever faced is back."  And with that, Blade turned around and launched a silver projectile at a man about forty feet away, landing directly in his forehead, and the vampire crumbled in a pile of bones and ashes.   

            "Nice shot!" said Max.

            Two other men sprang from the door of a building, and with a quick draw of his Mac-10, both were rendered corpses.

            "Let's go—it's in here, probably top floor.  You stay behind me, and shoot anything that moves," Blade demanded.

            "What if they're humans in there?" Rossi asked.

            "The day they decided to work with vampires they lost all rights to call themselves human."

            "Hey!  They're probably just trying to survive—like us!" Rossi retorted.

            "Damnit Rossi.  It's either them or us!  You want to change the world, remember?  Well, tonight we start.  And if a few people get in the way—remember—it's for a bigger cause." Blade said waiting for Rossi to shake his head in acceptance.

            The trio entered the building, and the vampires could only look on in horror as they were all destroyed.  One here, two there, five there, and so on.  Security was obviously going to be minimal—who would challenge a building full of vampires?  No sane person for sure.

            Blade grabbed a vampire by the shirt collar, and asked where the Counsel resided.  Top floor like Blade thought.  With the answer, he was shot point-blank in the face.

            They took the elevator up to the fortieth floor.  When the doors opened, three men dropped their jaws as a sword was swung taking all three of their heads off.  Blade put the sword behind his back, and grabbed his machine gun once more.

            Rossi made his way to try to go first, but Blade stopped him.

            "Behind me."

            Blade led the way down the hall, and a man stood frozen in fear for a moment, but realized he had to get help.  He ran down the hall and began to scream in the archaic vampire language.

            "The Daywalker—he lives!  The Daywalker is here!  The Daywalker is—,"

            As the man was close to the large wooden open double doors, Blade pulled the trigger, and the silver bullet entered the base of his skull—his ashes carried into the room by the momentum, spraying across the shiny marble tiles.  

            Blade followed the ashes into the room, and kicked the first vampire to protest the entrance in the forehead, and backhanded another against the wall.  Rossi and Max stood at the doorway for a moment, and watched the mythical god work.  They were in all of the man they once knew as Eric Brooks.

            A roundhouse kick took out another vampire, and a knee followed by an elbow dropped another one.  Blade was having fun.  Rossi entered the room first and fired three shots—killing each vampire.  Max followed his son and took out another two, and finished off the vampires lying on the floor.  It got a little hairy for a moment when a vampire grabbed Max and nearly ripped his throat out, but a silver stake came slamming down through the back of his skull, and was reduced to nothing in front of Max's eyes.

            Blade looked down the long, narrow table at a man he recognized.  He saw Criville, an Ashe tribesman, and head of the Counsel in New York.  Blade hopped on the table and walked slowly to the man sitting and trying to keep his composure.    

            "Criville, it's good to see you again, I have a message I want you to give to your boss, whoever that may be," said Blade while holstering his gun.

            "Blade, shame I can't say the same about you…my, how the tables have turned since our last meeting, what, two decades ago?  What's this message?" he replied burying the fear.          

            With a kick to his jaw, the Spaniard fell from his chair, and Blade hopped off the table, and kicked him in the ribs.  He picked the vampire up by his hair, and punched him in his mouth.  He then tossed the body against the wall—he landed and spit blood from his mouth.

            "Fuck!  What the hell is the message already!" he cried out in pain.

            "I think you already know what to tell 'im."

            Blade, Max and Rossi cleared the rest of the floors throughout the night.  

            Blade stayed on the second floor, and sent Max and Rossi to watch the front door.  1, 2, 3…10, 11, 12…they kept coming and Blade kept killing them.  And then he almost made a mistake.  He brought his blade down and barely to a halt in front of a female's head.  A beautiful Asian female, as Blade looked her up and down.

            "What are you doing here?"

            "I have to be here, I'm a slave in case you haven't noticed," she replied shakily. 

            "What are you doing here so late?"

            "Well, I just don't do paper work; I'm also a whore now by profession.  It's not like I can help it.  Why are you killing them?" she asked.

            "Maybe a better question is why shouldn't I kill them?  C'mon, get up.  I'll get you outta here."

            "And where should I go?  I'll be dead if I leave with you.  This is my life now…they've practically raised me to be a slave.  Nothing's going to change."

            "Yeah, wanna bet?  You can stay here an' be there slave, or you can come with me an' be safe.  Your choice.  Make it quick."

             "Why do I want to trust you?"

            "You have no choice.  I'm here to save the world…again."

            He stuck out a hand to her, and she hesitantly accepted.  He pulled her off of her knees, and down the hall they walked to the elevator.  

            "What's you're name?" she asked looking at him trying to pierce through his dark glasses.

            "Blade."

            "Just Blade?"

            "Just."

            "You killed a dozen of them, and you made it look so easy.  Are you one of them, a vampire?"

            He didn't answer; he just looked at her, and then heard the commotion and ran to see Rossi and Max taking care of business.  It seems as though the word was out, and everyone wanted a piece of the Daywalker.  They entered the building by the dozens, only to be obliterated by bursts of UV bombs.  

            The sun was almost up, and the attacks ceased.  They were hiding, asleep now.  Blade instructed that they grab as many weapons as they could carry.  You can never have enough artillery.  

            7 o'clock.  The sun was shinning bright.  Blade, Rossi, Max and . . .

            "I'm Monica, by the way," the pretty Asian introduced herself.

            . . . Monica exited the building, and then she knew for sure that he wasn't a vampire.

            "I thought for sure you were one of them, Mr. Blade.  You move as fast as them, and as strong as they are."

            "It's just Blade, and I'm not a vampire.  I'm a monster, but not a vampire," he replied as he began to pick up the pace.

            Rossi was grateful to see the humans walking and talking again under the sunlight.  It put a smile on his face, as it did on his father's.  

            Back at the building, Blade began to make silver bullets, and more stakes.  He sent Rossi and Max to get some more supplies to make better UV bombs, and some carrying cases for all the misc. weapons and tools.  Blade quietly continued to work, but Monica had questions.

            "Why do you fight them?"

            "Who else is goin' to?" 

            "I don't know.  I thought we would have had a bigger uprising by now, but everyone seems to have lost hope."

            "Everyone who opposed the vampires is dead.  I'd say losing hope is the least of their worries now."

            "You're so cynical."

            "I only speak the truth," he said looking over to her through his shades.

            "You know, I have heard of you before.  Everyone has.  But everyone thinks you're just a myth, nothing but folklore, like we thought vampires were before twenty years ago.  So where were you when this whole 'war' went down?  Did you try to help?"

            "I moved around, here and there.  One man can't fight an entire race.  So I did what everybody else did—I hid during the night, and tried to protect those close to me.  Something I failed to do long ago."

            "I thought you lost someone special to you.  Nothing else could make a man fight with such ferocity unless they were hurt deeply by something."

            Again, Blade looked at Monica, and for a moment, it felt that his heart missed a beat or two.  He tried to take his mind off of it, and continued to pour more silver into the shells.  He noticed she got closer and kept staring at him.

            "It doesn't make you mad that I had to sleep with them, does it?"

            "It's none of my business what you do for a living, is it?"

            "No, I suppose it isn't.  But they're strong; they can have anything they want.  They threatened to kill my entire family if I didn't work for them.  I was left with no choice."

            "I'm not judging you."

            "But it bothers you that they use us, humans, that way, doesn't it?" 

            "I wouldn't take it personally."

            "I don't, but it still hurts, being nothing more than something to fuck, and something to eat!  They all deserve to die," Monica said almost coming to tears, and Blade wanted to comfort her by holding her, but he did not want it to become personal.  He could not become attached.         

            "Yes, it bothers me.  They're animals, dead animals with only the desire to feed and destroy.  A vampire bit my mother while she was pregnant with me, and gave birth to a monster.  I have their strengths, but not their weaknesses.  I can walk under the sun, but I must also feed," Blade said hurtfully.  

            "You don't look like a monster."

            "I drink human blood.  What would you call it?"

            "I'd call it living—you have to drink human blood.  But you're not like the vampires."

            "No?  How am I not like the vampires?"

            "You're fighting them.  You're trying to save the humans from this ugly existence."

            "I'm doing the only thing I know how to do—fighting.  It's what I've done since I was a child.  Fight and kill."

            "You are giving, or were giving, hope to people who have none."

            Blade gave her a look, and managed to crack a smile, and Monica returned with one of her own.

*****

**Prague**

            Damaskinos crawled his way into the large, cathedral of a room and made his way to the end of the table, to sit where a king would.  He could feel there eyes trying to pierce his mind, trying to find anything that was different, anything that they could hold over the ancient Overlord.  

            No one had trusted the Elder, not in hundreds of years, especially how he threw his daughter Nyssa to the wolves, so to speak.  But the vampire Damaskinos has ruled over the Nation for longer than most vampires were alive, and no one dared question his ways, until now.

            "Damaskinos, it is good to see with us once again," said a familiar voice.

            Damaskinos looked over and saw Keogh.  

            "But, I must confess.  Faith in your ability to rule over our kind has greatly diminished," Keogh said.

            "You judge me by my appearance, Keogh," Damaskinos replied without looking back at him.

            "No, I judge you, like the other members judge you, by your actions.  And your servant boy had divided the House of Erebus into three segregated entities, and now not only are we at war with the humans, we are at war with each other."

            Udokeir gave Keogh a strong look, but Keogh ignored him, and let it sink in.

            "We are not at war with the humans, Keogh.  We rule them.  As for the other Houses, they will once again join Erebus, or be destroyed.  We are the Vampire Nation, and I rule over it.  As for Udokeir, he was excellent while I was predisposed."

            "Damaskinos, we feel that your time has come, and gone.  You have disgraced us with your secret vampire creations that almost led to the destruction of our race—and the Daywalker of all people—our most feared enemy became our savior," Keogh ranted, trying to unnerve the Elder.

            Udokeir stepped closer to the table as Keogh talked and talked, while Damaskinos only tried to become comfortable in his chair—throne rather.  Damaskinos looked to Udokeir as if to calm him, and assure he would have things under control.  Udokeir backed off like an obedient guard dog, and moved into the shadows of the room.

            "And what is your proposal, Keogh?  Who should lead the Vampire Nation in this next millennium?  You?  You think you can lead this great and mighty race to even more greatness, Keogh?" Damaskinos asked without changing his tone.

            "Yes.  Yes I can lead our kind, to much bigger and better things.  I can lead us without treachery and deceit!  And when we were clandestine, mythical, we had a better chance of survival, Damaskinos, but your power-hungry servant Udokeir changed things for the worse in your name!  He disgraced all our kind—," he was cut-off by a sharp, shiny blade that pierced his heart, and came through his chest from the back.  

            His ashes and crumpling bones fell across the dark oak table and chair.  Another member of the House that sat across from the former Keogh stood up at once and protested Udokeir's actions.

            "This is how you plan on controlling the Vampire Nation, Damaskinos?  With fear and force!"

            This struck a cord with Damaskinos—he realized they would all turn on him, and Udokeir could not stop them all.  Eventually the word would spread among the vampires everywhere, and they would send killer after killer to dispose him.

            With a wave of his hand, Udokeir was telekinetically sent flying through the air the distance of the room, sliding on the smooth floor and stopping only when he hit the wall—the sword still in his hand.  His grey hair covered his face and hung messily over his shoulders and neck, until he shook his head and cleared his face in disgust and shame.      

            "That will never happen again, Udokeir.  Is that understood?" Damaskinos asked his servant as he made his way back to his feet, dizzy from the flight.

            "Yes, lord.  It is understood," he replied.

            "I rule the Vampire Nation until I am no more.  Only then will a new Overlord reign.  And the other tribes will once again join us, or perish.  Any objections?"

            No one raised a hand.  


	2. BLADE: Last Resort Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**New York******

**            Rossi and his father Max slowed before the building entrance to their home, and Rossi handed the equipment they managed to find to Max.**

            "You're not coming inside, Rossi?" his father asked.

            "No pops, not just yet.  I'll be back; I'm gonna go find a few friends.  I'll be back before the sun goes down, promise," he said as he jogged down the sidewalk.

            Rossi took off down the street—his sword holding down his open leather jacket.  

            "Be careful," Max yelled as he watched him round a corner, and then decided to go in after a backhand wave from his son.

            Four blocks away, Rossi entered a dilapidated building, with boards nailed to the windows and spider-webs in every corner.  Rossi went up a flight of stairs to the second floor and knocked on a brown metal door in the secret knock his friends recognized.

            A tall, colossal of a black man stood at the door and waved Rossi in with a pat of his shoulder.

            "Rossi, damn good to see ya my man!" was the greeting from Jake—the crew's intimidating enforcer, that sometimes even scared a few newbie vampires.  Rossi tapped him in the stomach with a smile, and asked for Sonic, the hunter's leader, and Rossi's good friend.  The two grew up together watching men and women try to fight the vampires—but always with the same monotonous ending…

            "Sonic," yelled Rossi.  "Where are you, you fool?"

            Rossi found him a moment later in the third room on the left, along with about seven other members of the team.

            "Rossi, get in here, man!  What's happening?  You with us tonight…we're attacking the old Rockefeller building, 'bout fifty vampires taking up business there; ruthless bastards.  They've been killing in the streets at night—," Sonic was cut-off by Rossi.

            "They kill in the streets every night, Sonic.  What's different?"

            "I wasn't finished…they've been hitting shelters.  Shelters protected by vampires to raise the humans as workers—the more _humanitarian vampires, if you will.  These guys are even killing other vampires, there's some sort of war happening in the Vampire Nation ranks…the Houses split," The tall, blond-haired man said brushing his bangs from his eyes._

            "Good, let 'em kill each other for Christ's sake!  Why should we go after them if the other vampires want them dead?"

            "Because we are going to take them out, Rossi—so far, the only vamps we've bagged are puny little newbie scumbags…this is where we get some clout!" Sonic said with a smirk and a suicidal gleam in his eyes.

            Rossi looked around at the other hunters.  Most were about his age, some younger than eighteen.  None of them will live past twenty-five, he thought.  Most humans never did these days.  

            "Rossi?  Rossi!" Sonic said snapping him back to reality.  "You're with us, right?

            "Yeah, of course."

            "You packin'?"

            "Yeah, right here," Rossi said tapping under his shoulder.  "When are we out?"

            "'Bout half an hour; couple more comin' with us.  It's gonna be raining ashes tonight!"

            The sun was falling beneath the horizon seemingly sucking the noise from the planet.  And an eerie silence fell over the city.

            The building was right down the street, and so the hunters strolled down the eighty or so yards on foot, each hand filled with sub-machine guns and shotguns and Ultraviolet bombs and silver stakes—the necessary weapons of death for the vampires.

            Jake trailed the dozen hunters in front of him as his bulk permitted—in both hands, he carried a shinny nickel-plated Minigun—that wasn't so heavy to the giant—the chain of silver-tipped ammo across his shoulder resting in a back pack.  

            Sonic, like Rossi, had an ivory hilted katana slung around his back, and added ammo to his Uzi's clip.  He snapped the clip into place inside the gun, silently braced himself for the melee that was about to ensue.

            Rossi, once in front of the Rockefeller building, jumped up and down a few times and shook his head violently side-to-side as if to knock the nervous bug from his body.  Sonic looked at him and laughed, giving up on trying suppressing it.  Rossi looked back at him and smiled, then said he was ready.  

            All at once, everyone seemed to cock their weapons at the same moment in a loud ch-chik.  Everyone stared at the large menacing brass-trimmed doors.  Sonic broke the silence.

            "We're not gonna live forever."

            And with that, the troupe followed the tall blond hunter up the stairs, and Sonic reached for the handle, the laser on his Uzi aimed at the center.

            Once inside, Sonic motioned for the rest to follow, and the hunt was on.  Rossi backed up Sonic, and the two quietly crossed the large open, but desolate entrance hall.  Rossi remembered the days before the vampires enslaved humanity when he and Sonic, a.k.a. Michael Shupe would play like they were hunting aliens in the sewers—obviously the product of too much X-files on television—a childhood that children today would never be able to enjoy.  

            Now, Rossi laughed at the absurdity of it all—they were here to hunt vampires.  Rossi wanted to tell Sonic of the events last night; the Daywalker, his killing of maybe fifty vampires, and how he could get the team to fight along side Blade, but he liked having another side to his life—a secret side that neither knew anything about.

            The silence was broken inside the vast building by a sinister laughter.  All the hunters looked around to spot the voice, but could see nothing.  Some of the lights were on due to the humans that resided here during the day—but now all was quite and creepy.

            Rossi heard a barely audible noise, like a muffled sneeze, then saw one of his team members drop face first onto the tiled floor—blood spilling from his head.  He looked on in horror as another man was dropped by the sniper—Mike Gormley, another long-time friend—now dead, shot in the eye.

            Aiming his handgun at a dark shadowy figure on a terrace above the main hall, Rossi fired continuously at the specter.  Sonic followed suit, and unloaded half his magazine before realizing the sniper was history.  A few red-orange fiery ashes floated gracefully from the balcony.  

            That almost evened the playing field a little, until more shots rang out from the balcony, and vampires began to pour out of the rooms adjacent to the hunter's spot.  The humans dashed in either direction, to the left and the right, hiding behind statues and walls.  Gun fire was riddling the plaster off the walls and the stone from the statues.  

            Rossi grabbed a UV bomb and tossed it in the middle of the lobby.  It was intercepted by another sniper, destroyed before it could detonate.  Plan B.

            "Jake!  Clear us a pathway to just under that balcony," Rossi said yelling over the hail of bullets.  Jake nodded with a smile—it was time for the big guy to work.

            He moved rather fast this time, and stood in the middle, just in front of the entrance doorway, and let loose a shower of lead and silver that seemed would cut the building in half.  Vampires were cut down like grass under a mower Rossi thought with a chuckle looking at the Minigun's revolver spraying the veranda. 

            "Come on, Sonic.  We're going to drive them off of that terrace," Rossi said grabbing a couple of UV bombs.

            Sonic smiled, and motioned for the other hunters to take out the vampires on either side of hall.

            The path was beginning to clear.  Rossi scrambled to his feet, and Sonic mimicked.  The two humans ran swiftly across the great, Victorian hall and jumped the remaining ten feet to safety behind a wooden banister.  Bullets followed their descent down the foot or two drop to a waiting room.  

            Past the waiting room was a long, narrow hallway with about six doors on each side.  The doors began to open, Rossi noticed, and told Sonic to get down.  He waited for enough vamps to exit the rooms before tossing a UV bomb their way.

            Flash!

            The bomb incinerated about fifteen bloodsuckers.  Rossi and Sonic did a high-five, and began to toss a couple UV bombs atop the terrace, but the vampires were gone from their—wasted ammo.  Damn!

            Rossi yelled at Jake to stop firing—they seemed to be finished on the terrace.  

            With a chainsaw-like squeal, the Minigun came to a halt.  The door opened behind Jake, and he began to turn around.  Rossi looked on in horror as a bullet exploded through the back of his skull—brain and blood and flesh and bone splattering on the white marble floor behind him.

            More vampires began spilling in through the doorway, and the other hunters tried to keep them out, but they kept coming by the dozens.  The doors behind Rossi and Sonic opened, and more entered the conflict.  

            Hopelessness descended on Rossi, before he spotted their savior…

            Through the dark tinted window-dome on top of the short building, a dark figure dashed from view.  

            Rossi looked to the hall way behind him, and the vampires were heading his way.  In the instant it took for Rossi to realize he would be dead if he went for a new clip for his polished Smith and Wesson 9 mm, he grabbed his katana and rushed to meet the vampires with a fury of disciplined swings and thrusts.

            Sonic once again followed Rossi and drew his katana from the scabbard on his back.  

            The two modern samurai began to slash the vampires; falling limbs and ashes and crumbled bones littered the stairs and red carpet.

            Then Rossi heard the shattered glass followed by another burst of ultraviolet light that swallowed everything and everyone in the grand hall.  Rossi and Sonic turned around as the Daywalker silently landed the forty foot drop as gracefully as a bird.  Blade turned around and glared at Rossi through his dark Oakley shades.

            "You're dumber than I thought you were, Rossi."

            Sonic only looked at Rossi; he couldn't find the words to ask how he knew the dark hunter.

            Adding a bit more to the hopelessness feeling, the vampires once again filled the hall and surrounded the Daywalker.  Rossi made an attempt to help Blade, but he motioned for him to stop.  Blade would handle this.

            "Get outta here and get home—now!"

            Rossi and sonic slowly walked around the vampires; their swords in a defensive stance—the vampires just staring at them as the two sole surviving hunters walked with their backs to the wall and their tails between their legs.  They heard that laugh again echoing the corridor.

            As the two reached the doorway, Rossi watched as Blade slowly vertically drew his sword from behind him, and the vampires advanced with their sticks and weapons.

            With one horizontal swing, three were slashed in the chest and faded to the floor.  Behind him he lunged his blade almost subconsciously attacking with the eyes in the back of his head, or so it looked to Rossi.  

            Blade moved with their speed, and seemed an even match up regardless of the overwhelming numbers of the vampires.  Sonic only shook his head in disbelief as the man took out vampires as if they were in a slower reality even to his.  Rossi watched as one vampire brought down an axe at Blade's back, but was swept off his feet and his axe slammed into his chest, and then lobbed off his head.

            Rossi had had enough, and entered the melee swinging and yelling.  

            "Nobody gonna have a rumble without me!" he said making a reference to one of his favorite movies. 

            Blade noticed Rossi swinging and slashing at the vampires, and this made him want to protect him even more.  Max, from behind Sonic, pushed his way passed the doors and unloaded several shells into the immortal scumbags.  

            Sonic was the warrior type as well, and would not let his friends die without him.  After all, his entire team; all of his friends were dead now thanks to the very thing he has been trying to destroy for the past five years.  In an instant, he was in the battle royal, and hacking and slashing his way to humanities freedom.

            It all seemed like a blur, and dream to Max.  He fired away, and reloaded his shotgun, and fired again.  He watched his son fight alongside the Daywalker like the warrior he had become.  If the vampires bled when they were hacked, they would be fighting in a swamp of the stuff now.  

            But vampires aren't natural, no, there are apart of the supernatural realm.

            Something suddenly snapped Max back into reality—this reality—pain.  Pain in his back—he was shot and it came through his stomach.  A point-blank shotgun wound, and now he was dead.  His body fell face first as he looked at his son.

            "Dad!" Rossi screamed over the ensuing battle.

            Rossi ran to his dad's aid, but it was too late.  The tears rose up in his eyes, and so did the carnal lust to destroy the vampires.  He closed his dad's eyes, and grabbed the katana that lay in his father's blood.

            He turned around, blushed with anger, and attacked the remaining vampires that were readying to jump the Daywalker and Sonic.

            A few more vampires began to retreat to the hallway, and with a flick of his wrist, Blade tossed his glave and four vampires were mere ashes.

            Slash, slash, slash…ashes to ashes, dust to dust; that's what became of the last few vampires in the Rockefeller building.  And the three swordsmen stood, tired and out of breath, and furious at the death and destruction of their friends and family.  

            A tear streamed down Rossi's eye as he looked at his father's corpse.  Sonic put a hand on his shoulder and the two looked at each other—the tears in his eyes imitating that of Rossi's—and both bowed their heads.

            Blade walked over to Max's body, and picked him up in a fireman's carry and walked out the door.  He turned around and looked to Rossi.

            "You comin'?"

            Rossi and Sonic sluggishly followed Blade to his Charger, and with that, the night was over.


	3. BLADE: Last Resort Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

            The ride back was silent, save for the obnoxious roar of the exhaust.  The black '68 Dodge Charger rumbled its way up the parking ramp, and stopped three floors later.  Sonic and Rossi walked to the building adjacent the parking garage before Blade pulled out his father's dead body.  

            As Max's corpse was half way onto Blade's shoulder, Blade heard a noise, and then looked up from the truck.  Then there was that eerie laughter again that he had heard in the hall.  Someone still wanted to dance.

            Blade looked to his right and left—there were vampires on either side.  They never gave up, and again Blade remembered how tired he felt from the fighting.  Not physically tired, just mentally exhausted.  

            To his right, he saw the man who was laughing.  He was a young vampire, maybe twenty when turned, and one who obviously didn't know who he was messin' with.  Blade slowly dropped the body back into the trunk, and in a motion that seemed to one, the Mac-10 was drawn from his left hip, and a shot was fired and entered the laughing vampire's right eye.  

            Before his ashes could touch down, he took out three more, and took out the four to his left.  

            Blade heard fighting down below, and ran ledge of the garage.  Rossi and Sonic had their hands full.  Blade reached into his coat pocket.

            "Man, you mutha fuckers don't give up!" Sonic yelled as he kicked the Asian man in the stomach, and brought down the katana across his neck.

            Rossi was hit in the back with a club, and he dropped his katana after landing on his knees.  A second later, and after a brilliant flash of light, Sonic and Rossi were the only bodies left.  

            "Shit that was close," Rossi said looking up to his right, and then nodding to Blade.  

            "And I'm fuckin' blind!" Sonic said mockingly.  

            The two began to laugh, but was interrupted by Blade's demand.

            "Get inside!"

            Blade waited till the two had settled into the first basement floor loft, and then with the corpse on his back, leapt from the garage.  He entered the building, and traveled down the stairs to the last floor.  There, he made a make-shift body-bag, and placed Max under the stairs until he could later be properly buried.

            The one UV light was humming—it was nearly dead, and the last one that worked.  Blade could still see the dust unsettling as he moved to parts that haven't been touched or moved in years.  It was sad, Blade thought, how the world was today.  A barren and depressing cattle farm—nothing more, nothing less.  

            And he felt like he was responsible for it.  He felt like he let humanity down.  When the real challenge came, he bailed.  He ran and hid.  

            If anger was an aura, and rage an element, Blade would absolutely look like he was on fire, and about to explode.

            Friend after friend had died, 'because Blade couldn't save everybody.  He tried, but ultimately it seemed he was destined to fail.  He has always survived, but the people he has come in contact with have perished for sometimes no reason.  

            He smelled a human.  Then he heard the footsteps descending the dank stairway.  

            "It's not your fault, Blade.  It's no ones fault.  My father died doing what we should have done—I know he wanted it that way.  We all do," said Rossi with so much sorrow in his voice it was almost tangible.  

            "It is my fault.  Fifteen years ago, I gave up.  Whistler was killed, and all the others who tried to change the world.  Now _they fuckin' rule the world.  I'd say I'd have something to do with that," Blade replied becoming highly agitated.  _

            The two stood in the dark silence for another moment, and then Blade walked intensely up the stairs past Rossi.

            "C'mon.  We've got to find a new place.  They know where we are—we stay here, we're dead," Blade said while skipping two steps at a time.  Rossi was right behind him.

            Blade slammed the door open to the shady loft, and quickly began to throw things in a box; weapons and electronic equipment.  Sonic and Monica looked to Rossi.

            "Start packin'.  We're moving shop," instructed the worn Italian hunter.

            "You guys, uh, clean up here.  I'll hit my spot and grab everything I can, and I gotta find Jen and the others.  I'll meet you guys back here in about five hours, 'round noon," Sonic explained before grabbing his sword and exiting the loft.  

*****

Several blocks away…

            Sonic stopped running just short of his building to snatch an apple from a little vegetable stand.  In between breathes, he ate the red fruit like he hadn't ate in ages.  He spotted a couple of the other students in the martial arts class he and Rossi had attended for the past eleven years—even though Master Samuel had to move the location every year or so to keep things quite from the nocturnal ones.

            Humans were allowed to gather during the day, but the night belonged to them.  The mortals were dealt with mercilessly if caught with weapons or training in combat or anything threatening to the vampires.

            Local police still worked by day, to keep somewhat order while the vampires were not around—hence during the day.  The police, the military, the government; all owned by the vampires. 

            Nations collapsed daily, and a survival of the fittest theme reigned supreme the world over.  The United States of America were no longer so united.  Super-powers no longer had any meaning.  

            Sonic was too young to remember how things were before the Vampire Nation declared dominance over humanity, but things always felt different—sinister.  Like he, his family (what was left of them) and friends were mere livestock—being bred for the sustenance of the immortals.

            While walking up to his building, he tossed the apple's core at the ground of a few of his friends.

            "Sonic.  You look like shit, man," said one of them.

            "I feel like shit," he replied as he hopped up the stairs.

            Before he got to the door, a man yelled his name.  It was Master Samuel.

            "Hey, Master Sammy, how are ya?"

            "Good, good.  Obviously better than you," the older man replied.  From his looks and age, it would seem that the man was too old, too elderly to teach martial arts.  But looks can certainly be deceiving, and in his case…they were.

            "Are you going to make it to training today?" Master Samuel asked.  He knew what most of his boys did with the knowledge and training he provided them, but he never let on too much.  That was his hope—that one day the men and women of the human race would fight the more powerful vampires, and take back what is a god-given freedom.

            "Master Sammy, I don't think so.  I think I'm leaving tonight.  I'm in trouble—nothing I can't handle I assure you, but trouble that's deep.  I think for once I'm in over my head," replied the tired and fatigued Sonic, taking the katana off of his back.

            "Then why are you carrying your sword?"

            "Protection."

            "You carry a gun."

            "Master, maybe someday I'll tell ya about it, k?"

            "Okay, some day, you can tell me all about it," Master Samuel said with a smile.

            As he walked in the building past the dual glass doors, he mumbled, "If I live long enough."

            As the door slowly closed, Sonic heard a car come to a screeching halt and several doors opening and people screaming.  He was already up a flight of stairs but came down quicker jumping the last four.  He pulled the door open almost jerking it off the hinges.

            Outside, two men had grabbed two little girls who were reading at the bottom of the steps, and two more men grabbed two boys each.  The kids were maybe nine years old at the most.  He knew what the men, or familiars rather intended on doing to these helpless children.  

            No one but Master Sammy and one of the child's mother was even trying to help…the people just stood around like drones as the kids were being stolen as the mother screamed and beat on the men's' faces and Master Sammy rushed to the rescue.

            Master Sammy drove a forearm into the last of the men, and perhaps the biggest right in the lower jaw, snapping it with a pop.  For an almost elderly man, he moved lightning quick and was as strong as an ox.  The large man dropped the little boy, and he ran almost as fast as a blood-sucker.

            The man dropped to his knees and clenched his hands around the jaw as if trying to squeeze the pain away, but it wasn't to last too much longer, as Master Sammy's left shin came crashing to the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

            Another man came to his rescue after throwing one of the little girls into the back of the dirty dark blue van in the side door.  He rushed at Master Sammy and threw a right hook, but Master Sammy just parried with one of his own, and again, there was another sleeping familiar scumbag.

            The two remaining men flanked Master Sammy on either side, and the man emerging from the rear was the first to receive a broken nose, and the other was attacked from behind by Sonic with a kick to the left knee.  The blond haired man remained on two feet but hobbled to turn around to face Sonic.  

            Clutching his left knee with his left hand, he withdrew a knife with the other.  Sonic smiled and laughed aloud.  He reached around his back and unsheathed his katana, and asked the man if he really wanted to do this, but the man just hopped back around to the driver side of the van, but not before Sonic and the hopper heard the gunshot.

            It echoed down the narrow street of short buildings, sounding like a few shots, but in fact only one had entered Master Sammy's chest, and made its way out the backside of his ribcage.  

            The man just looked down at Sammy and smiled with the blood dripping down into his mouth.  He never saw Sonic aim the Uzi at his chest and fire three shots into his heart.  The blond haired man was reaching to turn the engine over but as he got it started, Sonic unloaded a couple more rounds into the back of his seat and shattering the driver window.  His head fell onto the steering wheel and the horn was jammed open.  

            The kids jumped out of the side of the van as he reached for them and they took off in separate directions.  Sonic tried not to look over to Master Sammy, but knew he was still alive, and he just couldn't take it that he would be dead…

            Sonic walked over to the gray-haired master and bent down beside him and grabbed his left arm, and raised his head over his thigh.  The blood poured out onto the asphalt, as his upper body was raised.  

            Sonic noticed his glassy eyes were becoming weak, but he managed to turn his eyes to talk to his young student of the arts.  

            "Sonic, never give up…never stop fighting these fiends, it is unnatural what has…" he faded as the blood started to form in his mouth, and with a cough spit onto his chin.

            "I won't master, none of us will, and someday all of us will fight.  And we will succeed."

            The master managed a smile before his soul left his flesh and blood.  Sonic reached over to close his eyes, and said a prayer, and remained silent until an ambulance had arrived.  

            As the old man was being carried away on a stretcher, half closed in a black body-bag, the rage finally welt up in Sonic, and he decided he would not let his other friends/hunters get involved—yet.  Eventually, thousands will die against the vampires for freedom, he thought, but for now, he would handle this with Rossi and Blade.  If others finally built up the courage to take on the immortal monsters, good, but he wouldn't allow any more friends die.

            Grabbing his Uzi off of the pavement, he slung it back under his shoulder, and under his jacket.  He quickly ran up the stairs to his apartment, and began throwing clothes and weapons into a duffle bag.  

            Next he grabbed several medicines from atop a chest of drawers; DDAVP for his Diabetes Insipidus—a disease brought on by lack of hormones in the pituitary gland in the base of the brain.  Without it, he would be thirsty even after consuming large amounts of water which he would have to waste just as fast as he consumed.

            He laughed at the ironic similarities of he and the vampires; both had an unquenchable thirst due to a disease, though one would surely survive, the other not a chance.  So maybe they weren't so similar after all he thought with a smirk.  He had to travel far and wide to many different hospitals up and down the East Coast in order to obtain large amounts of the medicine to last him months, where he could travel at will if necessary.

            The other medicine he grabbed was that of an albuterol inhaler.  He did not have Asthma, but a slight condition brought on by the DDAVP nasal spray set in motion things even doctors did not understand, which meant he needed help with his breathing sometimes.  

            While thinking about his illnesses, he grabbed the white inhaler, and took a couple of quick gasps, while spraying the mist down his lungs which by now have healed after a little more than a year of quitting tobacco, though now he wanted a smoke more than ever.

            With the duffle bag full and heavy, he hurriedly darted out of his apartment, and exited the building and made his way back to Rossi's living quarters, not losing a step until he opened the door, and was in the Daywalker's presence.  He looked at Rossi, and almost fainted from lack of fluids.

            Rossi looked at Sonic, and almost laughed, but he quickly realized it was serious.  The color was completely gone from his skin and eyes.  He was very athletic, but Rossi knew about his medical conditions and ran to the sink to grab a glass of water as Monica sat him down on the couch, removing his duffle bag.

            "What's wrong, Sonic?  Have you taken your medicine?" asked a worrying Rossi.

            After gulping the drink, Sonic shook his head disagreeing.

            "It's not that.  Master Sammy's dead and just now, as I ran from my place, did I realize what we're doing.  This is just a lot, now that I had a moment alone to think about it…but I'm here; I'm not backing down from those bastards," Sonic finished while taking another shot from his inhaler.

            Monica patted the sweat from his forehead with a towel.  She looked to Rossi who began to speak:

            "They got Master Samuel?  Why?"

            "He was protecting a couple of little kids from some familiars."

            Everyone bowed their heads for a moment of silence—the second time in only a few hours.  Monica was becoming uneasy.  She was scared.  She was with these men—boys! Two boys who didn't know anything, but were trying to save the world.  And this man, who moves like a vampire but can walk in the day.

            "Where are we going to go?" asked Monica with a frog in her throat.  She was very scared, and Blade noticed she was shaking.  She looked at him as he again moved frantically to gather up everything they could to take with them.  She was trying to be strong, but it didn't fool Blade.        

            "There's a couple spots I'm gonna check out.  And I still have a friend or two lying around somewhere," Blade said without looking back at her.

            Rossi took another box to white box van, and came back for more just as Monica asked Blade what they were going to do for the twentieth time in the past ten minutes.  Rossi decided to stop her, and asked a question of his own.

            "So, Blade.  Where'd you get that antique?"

            "Antique?"

            "The car, what's it a '69, '70?"

            "'68, and it's not an antique.  I had it underground."

            "Where?  The Batcave?" Rossi asked with a laugh, and he could tell Blade almost let it out too.  This made him laugh even harder, but the joke was obviously over Monica's head.  It was great to lighten the mood for about thirty seconds.  Monica looked as if she was going to ask the question for the twenty-first time, but Blade didn't want to hear it again.   

            "There's an abandoned church, 'bout three hours from here, on the lower Eastside of the city.  An old friend is shackin' up there.  We'll be safe."

            And with that, somehow Monica felt a little more at ease—maybe it was his voice, or the attention he finally gave her since they came back.

            With the last of the tools, weapons and equipment packed into the van, the passengers hopped in, and Blade jumped behind the wheel.  It was four o'clock; about four more hours of daylight left.  It would take about three hours to get to their destination, and that was cutting it close, Blade thought as he turned the key firing the engine on.

            Blade jumped on the highway, and headed south for the long, quiet journey down the deserted freeway.  It was about an hour into the drive before they even encountered another vehicle.  Blade passed the beat-up late '90s Ford Mustang at around ninety miles an hour, and the car headed for the first exit as if in fear of the people in the truck.

            Two his right, Monica slept in the passenger seat, and in the back the two warriors too were fast asleep, with Sonic's snoring drowning out the exhaust of the truck.

            The three remained asleep until they arrived at their destination.


	4. BLADE: Last Resort Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

            The heavy white box fan slowly and clumsily came to a stop in front of a dumpster in the windy alley.  Monica exited out the right side and looked up and down the alley dodging trash and paper with her hand.  

            The sudden stop had awakened Sonic and Rossi, and they climbed out from the rear.

            Blade looked at the old, decrepit building, and reached to knock on the steel door, but before he could, it began to open.  Blade looked up and to the left, and saw a somewhat hidden surveillance camera.

            A man with shoulder-length dirty-blond and gray hair and beard greeted the Daywalker and his guests through misty glasses.  His smile was ear-to-ear and he grabbed Blade's hand, and then threw his free arm over his shoulder.  It had been years, maybe too many to count, the man thought as he hugged his old friend.  Blade noticed how the man nearing fifty still looked youthful and full of life.  

            "It's good to see you again, Blade.  It seems like forever.  I thought—," the man was cut-off.

            "I know, you thought I was dead.  I suppose in a way I was," Blade replied and began to introduce everyone:

            "Bible John, this is Rossi, Monica and …?"

            "Sonic."

            "It's nice to meet you all.  Please, come in, come in," he said with a smile and gesture of his hand.          

            John Carik, or Bible John as he is often called by friends, was a slender man—probably doesn't like food too much, Rossi thought as he sized the man up and down.  Bible John looked back through his thick, black-framed glasses and smiled.  

            Inside the building was a complete reverse of the dilapidated look of outside.  For the first time in years Sonic and Rossi looked on with big grins at the lavish furniture and food covering the kitchen.  A kitchen!  This guy had a kitchen Rossi and Sonic said silently with a look at each other.  

            On the far wall opposite the kitchen was a library of hardbound books.  Monica noticed not a hint of dust atop the bookshelves.  The man likes to read.  Shakespeare, King, Keats, Lumley, Rice, Alwine, Romkey, Lovecraft, Clancy, etc. etc; the list went on and on and on.  Blade too noticed the library, and looked at the books and then to Bible John.  

            "You read all these?"

            "Yes, of course.  But, that wall is more than meets the eye," Bible John began, but looked to Rossi and Sonic and said with a wink, "It's ok, my apples are your apples."

            He continued: "I keep a low profile of course, but living above ground carries a price."

            Bible John rubbed a small leather-bound book that read Houdini along the spine, and pulled it slightly from the shelf.

            "Even I have my tricks," he said with a big grin.  Slowly, the entire library wall began to move forward, and then separate at the middle, and slide to either side in a low grumble of mechanical parts and gears.

            Rossi stopped amid-chew, and walked closer to the bunch at the sliding wall; Sonic followed after a view of the inside.  

            It was a complete room full of weapons hanging from each wall, and computers atop a long wooden desk.  Two TV monitors filmed two locations of the building.  The room itself enlarged as the wall hiding it removed and folded out of view.  The space grew to about fifteen feet in width, and another five feet in distance.  

            Sonic and Rossi chuckled and Monica was in awe of the arsenal and technology.

            "Something that you may or may not be aware of Blade, is that the American government is still functioning, and quite well, unbeknownst to the Vampire Nation it would seem.  You wouldn't believe some of the preposterous things they are trying to come up with to defend themselves from the immortals.  

            Everything from installing gigantic ultraviolet lights in the sky during the night to ultraviolet rail guns that can pierce walls of concrete.  America may not have much of an army left, but the technology from the fall out of the war has evolved ten fold.  They live, or hide rather, in pockets in America: under the mountains of NORAD and several locations similar that were built in case of Nuclear War." Bible John stated.

            "They have scientists and biochemists researching captured vampires, and are trying to come up with a disease that could possibly wipe out the race entirely.  So far they've failed due to their accelerated immune system.  The government has infected them with AIDS, syphilis, bubonic plague, smallpox, and hundreds of other biological weapons and diseases, but alas to no avail," the man said while adjust his glasses.  Bible John walked over to the computer in the center of the three desktops, and typed in some commands.  

            He brought up a couple of pictures of people Blade knew well.  Frank Drake.  Hannibal King.  Quincy Harker.  Their groups and followers next, and what they all had in common was death.  

            "Blade, they're all dead.  All of our friends; all of our colleagues.  But you, I never gave up on you.  I knew you weren't dead, but I was beginning to doubt my self and my intelligence," he finished with a smile that Blade managed to return, but then looked back at the computer monitor.

            You could feel the despair and dread replace hope and optimism in that instant, Monica thought while looking at Blade's face—it painted a picture of a thousand words.  No doubt he was thinking once more of the overwhelming odds in the vampires' favor.  One man and two boys against an entire race now that the Earth's best hunters were gone.  

            As Blade turned around to walk out of the office, out of the corner of his right eye, he noticed a picture of a "concentration camp."  The large black building that warehoused human livestock and slaves.  

            "This is where I'm gonna call 'em out.  I'll start with this one," Blade said as he tapped his gloved finger onto the picture on the wall.  

            "The concentration camp?  Call them out?  What do you mean?" Rossi asked.

            "I think he means he's going to declare war on the suck-heads, Rossi," Sonic explained.

            The picture reflected Blade's wide grin to the four behind him.

*****

            A square colossal structure sits atop a man-made island just next to the Statue of Liberty, which sits sadly and armless and decayed and weathered.  The building is colored a flat black and is very dull and missing any kind of artistic touch in its design—just a large square.  A very large square in fact, measuring about a ¼ mile in length and width.

            The building was constructed for one purpose—to breed and generate the humans which were now only cattle.  You couldn't really even consider them slaves, for they were treated by the vampires far worse if such a thing is possible.  Sex is no longer permitted, save for the occasional sex-toy for the immortals; the camps are not co-ed.  Pro-creation is done in a separate part of the compound, where the babies born are thrust immediately into slavery for the Vampire Nation.

            A man stared at his translucent reflection in the clear wall.  It was better than staring at the three silvery blue walls behind him, but as he looked out into the compound he was inflicted with pain: the familiar pain of a now forgotten time.  The pain was from his memories before the vampire uprising, when they were nothing more than myth, legend.

            Now, sitting in his claustrophobic cell, it was giving him a headache.  He rubbed the stubbles of hair on his head and temples trying to ease the searing pain.  

            He quietly asked himself how long it had been since he had seen the sun.  He couldn't calculate it.  In here, time did not matter, much like it seemed it didn't for the vampires.  He was more than sure it was over years—indicated by little cuts he made on his stomach from each new day he awoke.  He now had over three hundred, before he stopped.

            Besides, he had seen some people in here grow from young men to now more mature adults.  They were the unlucky ones, much like him, the ones who actually had to live, or endure rather, this cruel life and existence—slaves to the immortal blood-suckers whom they were merely food, sustenance—and the occasional lay, nothing more.

            While rubbing his head, his hands slipped to his forehead and to the small metal rod that barely protruded over the skull and through the skin, and the tattoo that he could not feel atop it.  The small implant was an inventory device basically, and if the product (being the human) was ever to escape, it served as an electronic tracking device as well.

            Again, hope disappeared with the touch of the needle shaped rod in his head.  He could see the barcode-like design across his face, and a tear as it rolled silently down his cheek in the glass.

            Jerry!  That was his name, Jerry.  He forgot it now and then.  No one here spoke much at all, unless it was to themselves in the almost private conditions of their cells.  But it came back to him just then, Jerry.  But it didn't matter, no one would ever be calling out that name again, at least not while referring to number 111212, which is what he now went by.

            A human reduced to nothing more than a few digits, and pints of blood.  

            Disgraceful.

            He wanted to curse God then, but realized of course he didn't believe in such a creature or deity.  And what would God have to do with a survival of the fittest war?  Nothing…it's been happening since the beginning of time.  And after all, vampires existed, so why not a God?  Too many thoughts—too tired.  

            The man looked around his blank and lonely cell, and stared at the toilet and sink.  At least we're given that much he thought, but he wasn't sure if it was aloud or in his head.  


	5. BLADE: Last Resort Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

            Bible John sat in the back of the now-empty box van save for some automatic weapons.  The plan was quite simple actually: Breach the compound, and rescue several thousand human slaves.  Security was minimal, about sixteen armed guards; four on each floor.  No telling how many other vampires were in the compound, and how many weapons they had stored.

            He looked over at Rossi and his best friend Sonic, who eagerly awaited the confrontation.  They are the humans' best hope now, along with Blade.  As young as they were, there was no room for error.  One could mean death, or worse.  

            Monica, using Bible John's laptop computer, tried desperately to begin an encryption process of the compound's security system.  Several fail-safe devices were set-up to protect the vampires from the sun's deadly rays during the day.  Almost impossible to get in or out for those twelve hours.  

            Blade slowly pulled the van around the docks of South Street Seaport, looking for a large boat with enough room to load a couple of dozen humans on a single round-up, and fast enough to get them to the docks and back in good time, or out of danger if and when necessary.

            A large white, yacht bearing the name Demeter in bold italic letters sat bobbing on the gentle waves at the end of a pier.  Blade popped the van into park, and got out to have a closer look.  He walked around the front of the van, and glanced to his left before walking to the Demeter.

            The Brooklyn Bridge lay silently beaten and destroyed from a terrorist attack nearly eighteen years ago.  The entire mid-section lay beneath the water—steel reinforcement beams crawled out from the concrete skin like a skeleton's fingers reaching for its flesh.  Almost two years to the date this attack happened on the September 11 anniversary.  Similar attacks happened all over America, that second dreadful day of infamy.  

            The Golden Gate Bridge was obliterated as well during a Gay/Lesbian celebration.  Underground tunnels were devastated in many cities, killing thousands more.  Four Baseball stadiums were hit with biological weapons, one with nuclear.  

            The retaliation of America could've swallowed the world in its nuclear wrath if it wasn't for the next attacks on US soil, though the next attacks were from monsters even deadlier than the Arab terrorists.  At night, _they declared war on the human race, and within months most of humanity was enslaved.  _

            And the world thought it couldn't get worse.  

            Blade snapped out of his recollection of those horrific days before the uprising and jumped on the side of the Demeter.  He looked the ship over, and then checked its fuel and engine—it started right up.  Again there was that bright smile that seemed would bring the world back from the dead with the motor coming to a groggy, lazy rumble with the push of a button. 

            Blade looked over to the van, and nodded—the signal that this boat would work, and so Rossi, Sonic, Monica and Bible John exited the four-wheeled vehicle and hopped on the yacht.

            As the Demeter pulled away from the pier, Monica sat against the rail and studied the compound's internal and external security for a way in—and out.  Monica was fairly experienced with computers.  That was her job at the Vampire Nation's building in upper Manhattan.  She did everything from track and locate hunters—that part she left out.  And she helped to translate all of the text from the Book of Erebus electronically.  She was also somewhat familiar with the "concentration camps."  

            Monica was already in the government's satellite, now it was a matter of disarming the security, or finding the key code, that only a handful of vampires had.  The security wasn't that radical, seeing as how they only housed human slaves, and if they did happen to have some escape, they were in for a rough swim, and chances are they'd be picked up before they got halfway to shore.  But, the compound couldn't be penetrated by Blade's idea—force.  Explosives wouldn't really work.  Maybe enough, but Monica's idea was to disable the security, thus disable the communications, and eliminating reinforcements.

            Hopping over the rough seas Sonic looked as if he would vomit—inviting Rossi to play on that while holding his stomach, he closed his eyes and leaned his head over the ship just in case.

            "Ha!  You can't take a couple of choppy waves, but you can kill vampires and familiars till your hearts content.  Man, you're somethin' else," Rossi said while patting him on the back.

            Sonic took it in stride—he kept his eyes closed and concentrated on not throwing up.  Sounds easier than it actually is: every movement made him want to let loose his intestines on the water, and empty his stomach of food not even there.  

            Rossi walked to the front of the ship where Blade was quietly steering the ship to its destination—the large black square.  

            "I didn't know you could drive one of these things, Blade."

            "I don't."

            "So…you don't know how to stop this thing?"

            "I guess I'll try the same thing I did to get it going, only in reverse."

            Bible John entered the large cabin, and took the controls from Blade.

            "That's alright, Blade, I think I can take care of this," he said with a wry smile to Blade, then peering out from the large panoramic window in front.  Blade returned the smile, and walked out onto the deck for some fresh air.  He stared at the seagulls that followed them, and then over to Sonic who was still becoming sick.

            "What's the plan then?" Rossi said from behind him.

            "To kill as many of the suck heads as we see, and free the humans inside," was the fairly tactical-lacking response Rossi wasn't looking for.


	6. BLADE: Last Resort Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Prague******

            "It seems as though the dead have arisen from the grave, lord.  We may have problems in New York," Udokeir said with his head low, his silver hair in his eyes and pulling his robe to a close in front of his chest.

            "Explain…"

            "The Daywalker, lord, seems to be alive.  It may be someone impersonating Blade, but he is nonetheless destroying vampires, again."

            Damaskinos looked unperturbed by this news.  And outside the thunder echoed across the landscape followed by bursts of light.

            "Well then, Udokeir.  It seems as though you are going to the Big Apple."

*****

**New York******

**            A large, wiry brown rope was lassoed and tossed over an iron stump on the pier, and Rossi pulled the Demeter to a jolting, thudding halt.  Blade pulled off his long coat and re-sheathed his sword.  Sonic was off first, and turned around to give Monica a hand off of the boat.  Monica hesitated—she looked at Blade for a moment, but he didn't see her.  He was busy single-handedly trying to pick up every bag of weapons.  Monica turned around to accept Sonic's offer.  **

            As he was finishing tying the boat's anchor, Rossi smiled to himself as he watched the way Monica looked at Blade.  

            Rossi dusted his hands, and walked over to Blade who was still layering-on the duffle bags.

            "Let me give you a hand with that," he said while taking the last dark duffle.  "Blade, how many trips do you think we'll have to make?  The boat's pretty small."

            "I don't know.  We're gonna save as many people as possible, Rossi," Blade said uncharacteristically empathetic.  

            "For most of 'em, this is just a giant coffin," Blade finished.  

            _That's more like it Rossi thought silently to himself._

            Bible John was the last to exit the boat—everyone thought it odd he was taking so long.  Well it has been a long time since he's been in any type of violent confrontation; nerves must be working him over.  

            As he hopped on the pier, he adjusted his thick glasses.  The box-construction was colossal.  It didn't look that big from across the river.  And they were still a good hundred yards away.  Bible John noticed Blade, Rossi and Sonic loading clips into guns, and tying swords around their backs.  Monica stood their frozen like a statue, and except for her flowing dark hair, she was motionless.  He doubted she was anywhere near as scared as he.  His knees wanted to buckle as he walked to meet the crew.  He figured after he vomited, he'd be ok—not the case, he needed to again, but he suppressed it.  Bible John tried to attribute the sickness to the choppy waters, but he knew otherwise, and that made him feel like a coward.  

            As he drew nearer to Blade he felt much safer, like he was with a superhero.  

            "Think fast!"

            Bible John looked up as a shotgun was tossed in his direction.  He looked back at Sonic like he was insane for throwing a weapon so carelessly like that.

            "Relax.  It's not loaded.  I figured you needed something to do.  And you're probably gonna need that in there," Sonic said pointing to the building with a thumb.  "You look like you're going to hurl, John.  Man, there's only like a dozen of 'em in there.  We're in, then we're out.  Simple."

            Simple.  Sure.

            The pier boards creaked and cracked with Bible John's every movement—which if it wasn't for the wind, he wouldn't be making.  

            _Laughter, that's what the seagull's crying sounds like, laughter_

            Bible John's head was swimming in thoughts, so he began to load the silver-filled shells into the Benelli shotgun to help him forget about it.  

            Blade led the group to the large, silver, steal entrance.  The doors were much larger than they first appeared on the pier—but so was the entire structure.  Monica was already ahead of Blade; she squatted next just off of the door and opened the laptop computer for a better way in, if there was one.  These doors more than likely do not open in daylight hours.  Blade had no idea how many vampires were inside, and if they were armed or not was another concern.  Monica continued to click away on the keyboard.  She was hacking access codes to all of the human cells, and at last obtained the necessary code to open the foyer.  She gazed over the infrastructure's blueprints one last time to see if there was a better way in or out.  

            "Looks like the only way," Blade said as he coolly looked the door up and down.  

            "Ok, when I hit Enter, this door will open.  All the other doors to each cell will open too," Monica said looking at each of the men, waiting for their silent acknowledgement.  Sonic clasped both hands together and gave her a wink.  Rossi grabbed his handgun and cocked it, and held it by his side as he stretched his neck side-to-side.  Bible John looked up from his matte black shotgun.  Blade turned around and looked at his crew.  He knew it made the others calm when Blade took charge.  They were here to kill vampires and save the human slaves, but not at the cost of losing his friends.  

            "Bible John, you and Monica will wait out here—you can take the people back to the harbor.  You and Sonic are with me," Blade said looking at Rossi.  Sonic removed one of his shoulder-holstered Uzis and placed it in both hands.  Monica stood up and showed the floor plans of the building to Blade, Sonic and Rossi, and Blade pointed out on the screen where he wanted Sonic and Rossi, the best place for them to be was near the entrance to usher out the humans.

            Sonic was to stay directly at the entrance, while Rossi would clear the first floor with Blade.  

            "You ready?" Blade asked.

            Everyone shook their heads yes.

            "Open the doors."

            The doors slid open eerily slow and quite.  There was one figure standing with his back to the doors, and he turned around fast as he felt the sun on his body burning away his flesh.  He hopped back safely out of the UV rays, but as fast as he moved out of harms way, Blade moved faster.  In a blurred motion, Blade had his sword tearing its way through the vampire's torso and up his rib cage.  The burning ashes scattered across the shinny marble floor with the breeze from the river and Blade's lightning-fast motions.  

            Sonic and Rossi followed Blade into the hallway while Blade sheathed his sword and grabbed the gun at his side.  Voices could be heard whispering.  The cells were open, and some of the slaves were brave enough to take a peak.  

            From here it was still hard for the two to see what the building looked like—it was dark, but Blade could obviously see just fine.  He took out unseen guards on either side of him with only two two-round burst shots.  

***

            111212, or Jerry as he liked to think of himself, ventured out of the door that opened from his cell.  He looked to the left and right of him, and saw that only a few others were on the catwalk, and some directly opposite him.  His heart began to beat heavily as guards stormed both sides of the balcony, and began to shove the slaves back into their cages.  But Jerry was just too curious.  He saw sunlight.  A door or window was open, something was obviously wrong.  

            A guard ran up to Jerry and violently grabbed him by the shoulders and continued to force him back into his cell yelling profanities and spitting as he yelled like a rabid animal.  Gunshots rang out, and the guard flinched as the sound echoed the halls.  The rabid guard turned around to look over the railing and dropped his guard long enough for Jerry to know what he had to do.

            Something was apparently happening that would change his life.  Something was changing the way life would be lived in this coffin, and his hesitation was gone.  Jerry rushed the guard from behind and with a spear to the spine tackled the guard off of the terrace.  The two fell limply twenty feet or so, and then landed with a breath-taking thud.  The guard landed face first—his neck obviously broken with the bone sticking out of his neck.   Jerry was winded, and his vision was meager.  He saw the shapes of two men shooting guns and swinging punches and kicks.  The red-orange ashes of dead vampires blew casually over him and made him want to sneeze, but he was losing consciousness, and was trying to concentrate on staying awake.  

            He felt someone, or something, grab him by the shirt collar and drag him into the bright sunlight.  And then he finally sneezed.

            "God bless you," a voice said.  

            Jerry noticed through squinted eyes dozens of his fellow inmates being scurried onto a boat—the Demeter, it said on the side.  A beautiful Asian woman was helping them aboard.  Another man with glasses was fidgeting with some controls on the boat, as he stopped to adjust his bottle-cap glasses.

            "I think he has," Jerry said, but he wasn't sure if it was discernable.  

            A tall blond-haired man with guns on both shoulders helped him up to his feet.

            "You ok to walk?  I saw you take that fall in there—that was about twenty feet or so.  How do you feel?"

            Jerry didn't say anything.  He was still trying to figure things out.

            "Hello?  Anyone in there?" the blond asked.

            "I'm Sonic, and over there, that's Monica, and Bible John.  We're going to get you outta here, ok?"

            "Who's in there killing them?" Jerry asked.

            "That's the man himself.  Blade.  Oh yeah, and Rossi's in there too," Sonic replied while helping Jerry to the boat.            

            "Thank you," Jerry managed to finally get out.  "I'm Jerry."

            "Jerry, it's nice to meet you, but it would be great if you'd get on the damn boat and let 'em take you to the harbor.  What do ya say?" Sonic asked with a smile.

            Jerry returned the smile and looked to Monica who was smiling back, and took his hand and helped him on the Demeter.  

            "I'll see ya on the other side, Jerry."  

            "Ok, Bible John, I think we're full on this one.  Let's make a drop off."

            "Roger...I mean ok, Monica."

            As the Demeter pulled off, Jerry turned around to see more people filing out of the prison, and Sonic was running off to meet them.  

            He looked at the monstrous building, and for the first time in years, maybe longer than he realized, he felt like a person again, and not a piece of food.  

            After a few minutes of basically soaking up the sun, and feeling totally safe, they arrived at the docks.  He was amazed to see dozens of his friends, if you can call them that, wandering the wooden planks of the pier.  

            Monica and, Bible John?  Yes, Bible John, that's what Sonic said his name was, helped the people off the Demeter, and he was the last to get off.  He still felt like he was in a state of dreaminess.  After he tripped over a rope, he turned around to face two of his saviors.

            "Can I help?"

            "Sure.  Can you keep everyone calm?  Let them know that we will be back to get everyone to a shelter when everyone is out," Bible John said, hoping that it would work, and that the he wouldn't ask where the shelter is.

            "Yes," Jerry returned with a smile, and then turned around to meet up with his people.  

            Bible John returned to the cabin, and Monica untied the Demeter, and they set back for "the Square."

            "When we get back to "the Square" I'm going to try to contact some friends.  These people won't be safe in the sewers—the vampires will be able so smell that much blood in a hurry.  I'm going to look for all the human safe houses in Manhattan," Bible John said.

            "Good idea."

***

**Elton Avenue—three blocks from the docks**

            A standard white Dodge B250 van cruised down the quiet and desolate street, stalking a car full of young people.  The two drivers looked at each other and smiled.  The passenger pulled out a large chrome Desert Eagle handgun.  It did about as much damaged physically as it did just by looking at the hand cannon.  Evil thoughts coupled with outrageous glory.  The thrills of the hunt made it worthwhile even more.  Their masters would be happy with them.  A car full of young flesh, and female flesh at that, except for the driver taunted the two vampire familiars.  

            The driver was having second thoughts, but knew that his teammate wouldn't let them get away.  His smile went away as the little green 2004 coupe pulled into a wide alley.  Looking into his side mirrors, Gage couldn't see his mates in the second recon van.  Miguel noticed what Gage was looking for, and interrupted his thought.

            "They're probably getting laid.  Keep you're eyes on the road, and follow that damn car!"

            "You'd better calm down, partner.  I know what I'm doing," Gage retorted with a mock backhand motion.  And as Gage looked over to his partner, the glass windshield shattered and Miguel's head exploded, and he was covered in brain matter, blood and glass.  

            "Jesus Christ!" shouted Gage as he jumped in the back of the van while simultaneously grabbing his holstered pistol from his shoulder.  

            "A fucking sniper?!"  

            Another shot rang out, but it was silent, except for the ripping of the van's bodywork.  

*****

**Manhattan, lower-Eastside**

            His eyes seemed to cast a red hue over his non-prescription glasses.  His long, shaggy and uncombed black hair was almost blue, as the light reflected off from his over-head lamp. His glossy-white hand turned another page in the book he was reading: a medical journal from the hematologist Dr. Karen Jensen.  As he flipped the next page, he had already decided he was finished reading for tonight, and closed the book, and set it upon his desk.  

            His glasses were also removed and sat atop the book.  Michael Morbius needed some fresh air, and walked over to a window in the center of his apartment.  He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his long-sleeved black shirt, and uncuffed the sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows. 

            The dwelling was in shambles-completely!  Papers and medical equipment littered the place haplessly.  

            He began to reminisce outside the apartment of days long past when he was the acclaimed Nobel-prize winning biochemist.  And ghastly thoughts of his ex-fiancé, Martina Bancroft, and his friend Dr. Nikos whom he killed due to the overwhelming bloodlust after he and his doctor friend tried to find a cure for his rare blood disease.  

            After injecting himself with distilled substances from the blood of vampire bats, and while subjecting himself to electrical shock therapy to create more blood cells, an explosive chain reaction was set inside his body reacting with the vampiric fluid already coursing through his veins.

            Thus the vampire inside Michael Morbius was born, and his friend Nikos was set to die.  After killing his friend who had tried to save his life, Morbius could not bare to kill Martina Bancroft, his soon to be wife.  He through himself in the ocean, and upon trying to survive his new vampiric nature was complete.

            He still carried with him to this day, and possibly forever the unimaginable guilt of killing innocent human beings to survive.  Men, woman, children; they were all the same.  But after a while—maybe too late regardless—he derived a serum which would help him to no longer turn his victims into horrible blood-sucking vampires.     

            Michael Morbius looked about the streets of lower (literally) Manhattan and with a step, fell towards the concrete of Earth; quickly gaining momentum as gravity pulled with invisible hands.  But then Morbius opened his eyes just before reaching Terra Firma, and slowly he began to control his descent.

            As he landed in the alley, dozens of vampires scattered in all directions like roaches after a light is flicked on—perhaps it did, in their heads.  They feared the floating man to be a hunter; vampires in general could not fly, or levitate, though some gained the magical gift through the eons.

            The Living Vampire looked at them in contempt; with malice, the redness of his eyes now glowing.

            He thought about immortality, and how such ignorant beings could possess such a priceless gift.

            He thought about their ancestors, who should have died after thousands and thousands of years still lived—since the hairy-less, ape-like Neanderthals ruled the almost continent-less Earth of ages ago; when Adam and Eve roamed Eden with their big, over-sized foreheads and hunch-backed shoulders.

            They were a plague alright, the vampires.  A disease—definitely a virus that eventually mutated their bodies into monstrous and grotesque beings.  

            But they were in too many ways like the humans they now ruled over.  Yes, Morbius hated the vampires for different reasons than the mortal humans.  After all, neither would ever accept him as one of their own.

            He was a creature of circumstance; purely scientific, accidental, medical circumstance—much like the man whom he had come to the Big Apple to look for.  He didn't know if the man—if you can call him that—still lived.  He had not heard news concerning the legendary fighter in almost twenty years.  

            He may of finally did what was on Morbius' mind for years and years—and taken his own life.  Reality was pretty grim nowadays, and didn't look like it was getting any better.  Hell, if the main adversary of the immortal creatures had given up, then why shouldn't all of humanity do the same?

            As Morbius walked the more or less calm streets, he felt distraught that he didn't inherit the human-like vampires' gifts like telepathy.  It would be much easier if he could reach out with his mind to the Daywalker, instead of physically wandering these dangerous streets.  Instead, Morbius acquired all seemingly instinctual, animalistic attributes.  

            And the streets were indeed dangerous, even to other vampires—and Morbius was no exception.  The nocturnal creatures were just as territorial as the wild animals they occasionally imitate.

            And he thought strange the absence of the many vampires that wander lifelessly on the streets—sometimes like zombies.  The city seemed almost like it had decades earlier, before the uprising.  It was as if a fear has once again captured the demonic minds of the vampires.

            And a burst of hope filled all of Morbius for a moment, but he silenced it due to its illogical assumption: the Daywalker was alive, and back in action it would seem.

            But what else could explain the sudden and bizarre desolateness on the streets?


	7. BLADE: Last Resort Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Wallachia, Romania**

            The clouds had moved in and had covered the moon's light from the lush and rolling Romanian mountain side.  But this man, standing atop his castle that was nearly as old as himself, did not need the help of the celestial rock to see his old kingdom.  A kingdom rich with history.  A history unknown to many, many people.  

            For over nine centuries, this man, or beast, has lived among the passing generations the same, yet entirely different.  And almost a millennia ago, he spilled blood for this land, in war after war.  

            Now, as a thick, ghastly fog crawled slowly over the land, the Count Dracula reminisced about times long past and times yet to come.  His intricate mind found its way into the walls of the Vampire Nation's headquarters in Czechoslovakia, where the Elder Damaskinos sat like a statue on his throne satisfied with the way of the world now.  

            Damaskinos felt the presence of the other vampire, and laughed in his ethereal face.  An insult, Dracula thought, would be the least Damaskinos would have to worry about in retaliation.  Ruling over the humans is not the way of the vampire.  It is in the shadows, behind the scenes, the silent predator that brings death to those who deserve it most.

            Murderers, pedophiles, rapists.

            Though somehow over the centuries, the purpose had been torn away, much like the legend, until it was nothing more than a joke, a forgotten memory.  And soon the legend became evil.  The vampire became linked with the devil, instead of an avenging angel for man.

            Even Dracula himself had been known to take innocent lives, but with immortality comes great prices that even the most hardened of souls cannot cope with all of the time.  Sharing his secret with the one known as Bram Stoker was a big part of that undoing, but for what is was worth, no one took it seriously—it was just a work of fiction from a drunken Irishmen.  Serves him right, Dracula thought; he twisted the facts and failed to add the most important of the truths, that is all but shattered today.  

            Cutting through the thick dark of night, Dracula could see his followers coming to his domain with their white, almost glowing eyes and preternatural speed that would shame the fastest animal on the planet.  Dozens of pairs of eyes glanced up at the perched castle and then back to the path as they progressed.  

            The most infamous vampire of all-time was calling his Children of the Night to initiate a fatal blow to the Overlord Damaskinos and the Vampire Nation.

            Tonight, the House of Shadows _and Ancients join Dracula in hopes of changing the future for the better, at least for the humans who cannot defend against gods.  Tonight, the strongest vampires in the world gather to over throw the Overlord who has, for centuries, destroyed the system and design vampires have followed for millennia.  Tonight, Dracula once again becomes the Prince of Darkness.  _

            Behind Dracula, several members of the former House of Erebus converged on the balcony.  The man with the long dirty-blond ponytail in the middle stood staring at his great, great ancestor.  A man whose blood runs through his own; a blood that mysteriously was, in a small amount, not quite able to turn the victim of that long ago night, and was handed down in each and every generation for centuries.  

            Frank Drake looked at the one whom he now called lord, and had a respect for him he had never had in his many years of hunting the nocturnal blood-drinkers.  He never imagined the camaraderie between them that would eventually turn them into the father and son relationship.  But Dracula was not the evil, malevolent murderer he had thought him to be.  No, in fact, he was quite the remarkable soul, if they do really exist.

            Fiction and legend helped to twist his reputation into that of the dead, or undead, cold-blooded monster-killer that the majority of vampires _were.  _


	8. BLADE: Last Resort Chapter 8

 **Chapter 8**

**The Square**

**            "So, it looks like you were wrong, Blade.  About this being a giant coffin for most of the slaves.  Not one human casualty.  Over three dozen dead suckheads.  And we still have a few more hours of sunlight left to get the rest back to the docks and to some kind of safety.  I'd say we won," Rossi said as he watched the last few people board the Demeter.  **

            "Rossi, you and Sonic will take the rest back to city.  Monica and I are gonna search this place for any last survivors, and then I'm gonna blow it.  Look for a bus or two in case Bible John's plan doesn't work—we're gonna have to get these people out of here and to a safe house.  Can you handle that?" Blade asked as he turned around and walked back into the Square.

            "Yeah, I can handle it.  You did a good job too!" Rossi yelled as Blade paced away.  Rossi turned around and headed back to the boat, and Monica shrugged her shoulders as she passed him.  Rossi shook his head and continued walking.

            "Don't bother getting off, Sonic.  We're making this trip too.  Ready when you are, Bible," Rossi finished as he found a seat at the back of the yacht.

            "What was that all about?" Sonic asked as he sat next to his friend.

            "I don't know.  You'd think he'd show a bit of enthusiasm.  We just saved hundreds of lives, and he acts like it's not a big deal."

            "Well, the day is still young, Rossi.  Murphy's Law."

            "Yeah, and you probably just jinxed the hell out of everything too, dumbass!"

            The two just looked at each other and laughed aloud with the newly-freed slaves looking on curiously.  

*****

**Near the docks...**

            Gage checked his 9mm Glock's ammo—full clip.  A little bit of hope.  Another shot ripped through the metal cage.  Another... 

            Time to get the hell outta Dodge (pardon the pun, he thought silently to himself)!  Gage put the black handgun back in its holster, and crawled to the back of the van, and exited from the dual doors, and made a mad dash to the nearest dumpster, meanwhile, he could feel the bullets pass all around him.  The scared Familiar latched onto a dirty, blue dumpster and swung himself around—still holding onto the sidewall, a bullet caught the hand and removed three fingers in the process in a loud pop.  

            The pain was so excruciating that Gage literally forgot to scream—he was stunned, but he reacted quickly.  He ripped the sleeve off of his left arm and tied it as tightly around the wrist as he could stand.  

            This sniper was finished.  

            He nearly passed out.  From behind the dumpster, he could see where the sniper sat perched behind his car without the sniper spotting him.  But where were the girls?  Who cares?   Time to draw the hunter out.  

            In an animalistic instinct of self preservation, Gage jumped from behind the dumpster and fired as fast as he could pull the trigger in the sniper's general direction.

            A miracle.  

            Only a miracle could have presented Gage the situation he was in, he thought.  A shot caught the sniper in the right shoulder and knocked him several feet behind the car—the rifle nowhere within his reach.  But Gage was weakened by the loss of blood from his hand.  He couldn't run anymore, he stumbled and fell to one knee.  That was just enough time for the sniper to get back to his feet, and he was off.

***

            He didn't seem too hurt by the shell in his shoulder, and headed down another alley and yelled to the three females who had accompanied him on this hunt.  He waved again to the girls to keep moving.

            "But where are we running to?!" The short dirty-blond haired girl asked as she ran.

            "Just keep moving!  Damnit, just keep running—he's right behind us," the sniper demanded.

            As the three girls rounded the end of the alley, they were greeted by dozens of people in light blue clothing.  A boat with three oddly dressed men and more of the same clothed people were exiting the yacht.  The girls ran to the crowd and begged and screamed for help.

            "Please, somebody, Colin needs help—he's being chased, and he's shot!" the dirty-blond pleaded.

***

            Rossi was the first off the Demeter and met the girl half way in the crowd.  Sonic and Bible John were off next and right behind Rossi.  

            "Woah, woah, woah, calm down.  Who's chasing who, and who's shot?" he asked as he grabbed the frantic girl by the shoulders to try and calm her down.    

            She seemed more at ease.  "Colin, he's our brother.  A Familiar is chasing him.  He's shot and bleeding bad.  

            "Ok, where's Colin at?" Rossi asked.

            "He's right behind us," the dirty-blond said.

            "Sonic, go check it out," Rossi commanded.

            "Got it," Sonic said as he sprinted around the corner.  Rossi huddled the girls together, and sat them down on a bench near the water.  The blond was obviously shaken, she would not stop crying.  

            "Hey, it's gonna be ok, ok?  We'll take care of it.  I'm Rossi, and this is Bible John," Rossi said smoothly.

            "You can call me John," Bible John said with a smile, and again adjusting his glasses.  The crying girl was easing out of hysteria, and stood up as she saw her wounded brother being helped back with Sonic.  The dirty-blond looked over to Rossi and tried to smile.  Rossi smiled back.  The freed slaves stood around dumbfounded.  There was just too much happening today, and they looked exhausted.

            "I'm Andrea," the dirty-blond said as she looked on again to her brother.

            Sonic helped the wounded man sit at the bench as the girls made room for him.  The man had blood smeared across his face and his dirty-blond hair was stained red one side.  Bible John walked to the boat and removed several bandages from the Demeter's first aid kit.

            "So what happened, Colin?" Rossi asked as Bible John walked passed him and sat next to Colin.

            He hesitated to answer, as he studied the young Italian for a minute, but decided he could trust him.  "I was after some Familiars."

            "You were hunting vampire Familiars?" Rossi asked.

            "I was."

            "Any luck?"

            "Bagged one of 'em."  He stopped as he winced at the pain as Bible John finished wrapping up his wound.

            "Thanks," Colin said appreciatively.  Bible John simply smiled.

            "Bible John.  I think it's about time Blade joined us, what do ya think?"

            "I think you're right, Rossi.  I'll be back," Bible John replied and began to head to the Demeter.  Inside the cabin, the engine coughed, then roared to life.  Jerry helped send the Demeter off by giving the yacht an unneeded shove with his foot.  Jerry stood there without moving until he could no longer see the small yacht.

            Sonic stood up and walked closer to Colin.  He had questions of his own, "What do you mean you were hunting Familiars?  Do you have some kind of death wish?"

            "I don't have a death wish, I just won't stand by and let these animals try and bring down anymore humans for their bloodsucking masters.  They sold out their own race, their own blood for something they'll most likely never see.  Most people idly sit by and let the vampires have what they want, or hide in sewers and warehouses, but never fight back.  I don't have the resources to fight the vampires on equal ground, so I'll take my shots at getting their day-slaves."

            "What about—" BANG!

            Everyone flinched at the noise, but Sonic was stunned.  Two more shots echoed the docks and Sonic's body jolted, and he fell to his knees.  A sad expression consumed his face, and it was mirrored in his best friend's face.  As Sonic fell face first onto the aged wood of the pier, Rossi saw the Familiar, and quickly withdrew his gun and unleashed several shots at the man's torso, connecting all four shots.  The Familiar stumbled backwards until he hit a building wall, and slid down leaving blood soaked upon its limestone foundation.  

            Colin had jumped over his sisters to shield them from the shots as they squealed.  The humans were scattered across the pier, and one tried to make a noise to indicate the two men whom had just exited the alley with guns drawn.  

            Rossi crouched down to his dying friend—he knew right then that it was too late.  He turned Sonic over and his eyes were glazed over, and he was short of breath.  Rossi could feel the blood oozing from his back, like the tears from his face.   Sonic reached up to Rossi, and he grabbed his hand.  

            "We did good, Rossi.  We did good," Sonic said shallowly.  

            "Yeah we did, Sonic.  We did good," Rossi replied with a frog in his throat.

            Rossi noticed one of the slaves bend down next to Sonic.  The man grabbed Sonic's other hand.

            "Hello Sonic," he said.

            "Jerry..." said Sonic with half a smile, and then began to cough up blood.

            "I'll see ya on the other side, Rossi," Sonic said as he faded into blackness.

            "Thank you, Sonic," Jerry said as Rossi closed Sonic's eyes, and squeezed his own shut holding back the tears.  Jerry put a hand on Rossi's shoulder, and then the tears flowed freely.

            Colin looked up and realized what the silent slave was trying to say, and saw two more Familiars, and the Familiars looked up at the crowd.  Rossi seemed to sense the men finally also, and looked to his left in time to see two more thugs who wanted to taste blood.  

            Rossi stood up and raised his gun but the Familiar was quicker and sent a bullet into Rossi's chest, and another before Rossi managed a wild shot that shattered a window.  Rossi, reeling from the shots, tripped over a rope on the pier and headed right over the side and into the cold, murky waters.

            Colin leaped from the bench and grabbed Sonic's Uzi and fired at both men in a spray of bullets that riddled the wall and the bodies incessantly.  Jerry ran to the edge of the pier, but could not spot Rossi's body.  Instead, he only pools of blood that faded to green.  He ran the length of the pier, but still found nothing.  

            "This simply cannot be happening..." Jerry said shaking his head as he unconsciously dove into the water in search of his fallen comrade.


	9. BLADE: Last Resort Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Prague******

**            His bitter, grey eyes reflected the orange fire in the hearth.  He sat on his throne motionless, bored, but full of anticipation.  He had failed to kill Blade.  He had failed to kill his own son.  He had failed to dethrone humanity as the dominant species, but his successor had accomplished the impossible.  Humans now lived in caves, in the wilderness like the animals they are.  **

            Silently, except perhaps in the mind, Damaskinos called to his servants.  He wasn't hungry—in fact the hunger had near completely lost precedence—but he wanted to feed.  He wanted to feel the warm blood on his hands, in his mouth, and coursing through his cold, dead carcass.  He wanted to feel the incredible euphoria that was tantamount with orgasm in his mortal life.  

            With consuming the blood of a mortal, he could go places he never would have been to.  He could become people he never was.  He could feel feelings he could never have felt.  He became the person he was destroying, if only temporarily.  

            It made him God.

            The man was pulled into the decadent room by two vampires.  The man gave little resistance, but nonetheless, knew his ultimate fate was here in this room.  Everything he was, or used to be, was about to crash head-on with oblivion.  His heart told him so—as did the voice in his head.  

            But it wasn't his voice...

            Sluggishly, Ely Damaskinos rose from his stone throne.  He never opened his eyes; instead, he used the eyes of one of his servants to see him to his prey.  The man stood shaking in fear as the urine ran down his leg.  The one servant, who still had his mind to himself, laughed.

            Damaskinos slapped an open hand on the back of the man's neck and swung him to the left.  He opened his eyes, and let the servant have his mind back.  The Elder's right hand grabbed the man's tattered shirt and ripped it off, and threw it on the laughing servant's face.  

            The young man looked at Damaskinos' fingernails just before Damaskinos grazed them up and over his chest—the man let out a horrifying shriek and attempting to remove the vampire's claws as the blood dribbled down, and Damaskinos clenched tighter on the man's neck, obviously hitting a nerve.  

            _Shhh..._

            Damaskinos then thrusted his claws into the man's stomach, and removed his intestines.  The servants smiled in youthful expectation.

            He rubbed the stomach lining between his fingers, and closed his eyes once more and inhaled the aroma of the blood.  

            Damaskinos let the intestines fall to the floor.  The man, now unable to scream, due to the grip on his nervous system, physically and mentally, stood motionless in shock.  His eyes were the only source of consciousness.  

            In the next instant, so fast the vampire servants even failed to see it, Damaskinos' hand slammed into the man's chest, and removed a still beating, though badly damaged heart.  With each beat blood splashed from it's violent but useless act.  Damaskinos wrapped his mouth around the heart, and within moments drained it completely.  

            He then tossed the heart to his servants, who juggled it before catching the slippery organ.  The Elder, finished with his meal, tossed the man's languid body into the large hearth.  

            "Thank you..." said the Elder as he nonchalantly sat back on his throne.  


	10. BLADE: Last Resort Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**The Square**

            As Bible John edged slowly to the end of the pier, he looked at Monica who waited silently by the laptop, sitting Indian style.  Bible John looked up, and Blade was making his way down the 100-meter bridge that connected the pier to the Square's platform.  Inside the halls of Square, Bible John saw the fire that was raging inside.  

            "Get in," was the only thing out of Blade's mouth when he reached the boat.

            "Ok..." Monica replied.  She grabbed her computer and duffle bag of weapons, and Bible John helped her aboard.  Blade was in next and quickly he moved to the seat behind the cabin.  Bible John once again started the Demeter's tired engine, and drifted from the empty sarcophagus.  

            "Blade?  Is there something wrong?" Monica asked quietly, but meaningfully.  

            He was silent, and Monica became irritated.  It was like talking to a wall—worse, like something that wasn't there.  She made to leave, but Blade spoke: "Something's wrong."

            Monica turned back around to face the Daywalker, who removed his black sunglasses.  It was the first time she saw his eyes.  She was beginning to think he didn't have any.  She remained silent, insisting that she wanted him to go on.

            "I heard Rossi.  He said my name in my head, and then I didn't hear him again.  And I screams in my head," Rossi finished, putting his glasses over his eyes.  He removed a small black box with a red trigger connected at the top.  

            "Get down," Blade said.

            Monica hesitated, but eventually moved to the bottom of the hull.  Blade pulled the trigger in, and for a second it was quiet. 

            Almost in the same instant four explosions riddled and vibrated the Demeter, the boat rocking on its side from the force of the detonation.  

***

**The Docks**

            Colin looked down as he felt the buzzing below his feet, right before Andrea jumped in the water after the drowning Jerry.  He looked up, and saw a bright flash of light and cringed.  The Square, looking very tiny from a distance of a mile or two, was imploding in a cloud of dust and debris and water and fire.  All around him were oohs and aahs.  Two or three of the deranged-looking humans even managed a clap.  

            He looked back to the water for his sister and the bald man; Andrea was helping him doggy-paddle back to the dock.  His other two sisters, Sarah and Jocelyn, tried to help the two out of the cruddy water, but they were more in the way than any kind of help.  

            The sun was making its way below the horizon, and Colin began to worry about his sisters' safety.  People were already dieing left and right.  It was time to get them home...

            The wounded sniper walked to the pier where the bald man and Andrea were climbing up.  He put his arm around her and ruggedly pulled her to the side.

            "Ok, you did your good deed for the day, now we're getting outta here," he said to Andrea as she pulled her arm away from him.

            "What?  I don't think so.  What about these people?  We've got to help get them to safety," she replied angrily, shocked that her brother would be so selfish.

            "They can find their own safety.  You and your sisters are leaving this place—now!"

            "Colin!  Two people are dead, and many more are going to die unless we get them to a safe house!"

            "They can find their own—!" Colin was cut off by someone shouting.

            "Here comes the Daywalker!"

            "He's back!" yelled another.

            The Demeter came to a sluggish halt and rested peacefully on the pier where Jerry and Andrea had just departed.  

            Without waiting for Bible John and Monica to get off, Blade hopped onto the rickety quay and yelled for Rossi.  

            "Blade.  He's dead.  Sonic's dead.  They died saving all of us," Jerry interrupted with his head bowed.

            Monica gave way instantly to silent tears, and walked back to the Demeter.  Bible John put his hand on his forehead in disbelief.  

            "Where are they?" Blade asked as he pushed his way through the identical ex-slaves.

            "Sonic's over here," Jerry said without looking up.  "But Rossi..."

            "What about Rossi?" Blade asked.

            "Well, that's his blood," Jerry pointed to the edge of the pier.  

            "Where's his body?" Bible John asked.

            "Somewhere in the water.  I jumped in after him, after the Familiars were killed, but I couldn't find him."

            Seemingly as cold as death, Blade turned away and walked to Bible John.

            "Can you get in touch with your friends from the safe houses?" Blade asked.

            "Uh, yeah, Blade.  I'll try right now," Bible John said uneasily.  He walked back to the Demeter and opened his laptop and clicked it to life.  

            There were about a dozen things he needed to do before he could enter the Internet.  Backdoor traps were set that would stop anyone nosey enough to try and track him and his cyber-travels and chats.  

            After firewall after firewall was placed, Bible John began to broadcast his coordinates to email addresses of local safe houses.  He needed quite a few vehicles to get the ex-slaves to shelter before nightfall.  

            Within twenty minutes, two white box trucks and three vans arrived, after a couple of scouts did a reconnaissance of the place.  And for the first time, many of the safe house workers saw Blade, the new savior, for the first time.  The workers would whisper to each other as they ushered the ex-slaves into the vehicles.  

            Blade walked casually, but decisively, to Bible John's box truck.  He tossed the duffle bag of weapons in the back.  He and Bible John lifted Sonic's body into the back.  

            Then he walked over to the driver's door, opened it, and looked back at Monica and Bible John.  

            "You comin'?" Blade asked.

            "We're just gonna leave them like that?"  Monica asked worriedly.    

            "What do you want me to do with 'em?" Blade asked sardonically.

            "Well, we went through all of that trouble to free them, to save their lives, and you're just going to let them go out there, unarmed, unprotected?" she asked.

            "The safe house workers have guns," Blade replied so sure of their situation.  "They deal with bloodsuckers all the time."

            "Shouldn't we make sure they get there, safely?"

            "Not my problem."

            Monica gave him a look of disbelief and incredulity.  

            "But Blade, she's got a point.  We'll never make it back to my place before dark anyhow," Bible John offered.  

            "And I'd like to help," said a familiar voice from behind them.  

            "Jerry.  You wanna help?" asked Bible John as he turned around.

            "I have to.  We all do, but some people are just too scared.  I'm not.  I'm not afraid to die.  And I owe it to Rossi and Sonic," Jerry proclaimed.  

            "I don't need your help," Blade said while jumping into the driver's seat.  "You'll just get in the way."

            "But you needed Rossi and Sonic's help.  And..." Jerry looked to Bible John silently asking his name.

            "Bible John."

            "...Bible John and..."

            "That's Monica."

            "...and Monica's help.  Why couldn't you use my help?  It'd be another person to watch your back," Jerry finished.  

            After a couple of seconds thought, Blade shut the door behind himself.  Monica let out a sigh, and Bible John scratched his head.  Blade looked back over to Jerry, Bible John, and then to Jerry.  

            "Ok, we'll follow them to the safe house and leave in the morning.  We have more compounds to plan to blow up," Blade said to the delight of his team.  "You guys comin'?"

            Monica, Bible John and Jerry jumped in, and they followed the vans and trucks to the safe house a few miles north.  


	11. BLADE: Last Resort Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Manhattan, lower-Eastside**

            A conversation was picked up with his extraordinary hearing just then, as if to add to the ironic coincidence of his almost clairvoyant hopes.  Almost a block away, two vampires were having a conversation, and a name was mentioned by one that sent chills up and down the living vampire's nervous system: Blade.  

            The name was pronounced quite normally, but it seemed to be stuck in the record of his psyche and echoed and slivered in his mind.  Blade, the Daywalker, seemed to be alive.  He closed in on the conversation again, and more closely he heard them talk about the events which happened only two miles from his very dwellings in a human compound earlier this day.

            The Daywalker and several others—humans—breached the compound's poor security, and set dozens of humans free.  

            Amazing...

            Though the humans were probably all gathered up and killed or tortured by now, once again, Blade was shaking things up in the Vampire Nation it seemed.  

            Blood…fresh blood…fresh human blood.  The scent became overwhelming around this last corner, as Morbius inhaled a fresh breath of air.  No human dared to venture anywhere in the open above ground at night.  But here, in the middle of downtown Manhattan, on Fulton Street to be exact, the smell reached out to him like a palpable arm.  

            Next, a heartbeat.  Slowly, it was beating; near death.  

            The vampire walked around the corner and was facing the water.  The wind had picked up with evening, and the ocean's scent was overpowering the smell of blood.  Morbius figured it was a left-over meal.  Regardless, he wanted to know for sure.  

            He heard a cough.  It was coming from behind a phone booth.  

            "What happened to you?" Morbius asked the person, whom was bleeding profusely from the chest.

            "Well, I've been shot..." was the sarcastic response as he looked to his chest, and then up to the stranger with a smile.

            "So I see," Morbius replied.

            "So why'd ya ask?"

            "What are you doing out here at night?" Morbius asked with concern in his voice.

            "I got lost..."

            "Can you get up?"

            "Yeah, I guess.  Why?  You're a vampire, right?"

            "I am.  I won't kill you, though I can't say the same for those vampires," Morbius said as he looked up and over the wounded man's shoulder.  

            Five vampires stood under a lamp light whispering and pointing.  

            "Huh.  Guess I don't have much a choice.  Where are we goin'?" the kid asked.

            I've got a place up the road.  And some friends who can probably help you with your wound there," Morbius said as he helped the bleeding kid to his feet.

            "Good, that's good...'cause I'm feelin' kinda woozy."

            "I don't think we can out-run them in your present state.  Do you trust me?" Morbius asked.

            "I don't even know you.  But since it looks like it's either you or them, I'm gonna go with yeah, I trust you," the kid said still clutching his left shoulder above his heart.  

            "Hey!  What'dya got there?" asked one of the vampires as he started to advance on the two.

            "Hey!  I asked you a question.  What's that human doing here?" he asked quite pissed off, almost offended.

            "Ok, let's go.  Jump up," Morbius said.  "Like a piggy-back.  You know what a piggy-back is, don't you?"

            "Aw, you're gonna carry me?  That's so sweet!" the kid said as he reached over the stranger's shoulder with his right arm.

            Morbius began to trot away at a fast clip, but the vampires were catching them.  Morbius looked over his shoulder, and realized this wasn't going to work on equal footing, and so decided that he didn't need feet at all.

            In the next step Morbius leapt into the air, as if clearing a gap in the street, but continued to climb, and the kid let out a wail of laughter.

            "Aw shit!  You can freakin' fly?!  Get outta here!"

            The kid looked back down to his pursuers, and gave them the middle finger, and nearly fell off the flying vampire's back.

            "Easy, kid," Morbius said casually as the wounded kid lost consciousness.

            When the kid awoke, he was greeted by his flying vampire rescuer.  And another person was in the room.  Someone wearing a white lab coat; like a doctor.  He was obviously still in pain, the kid, and near unconsciousness once again.  

            He's not going to make it...He's lost too much blood...How are we going to find enough blood now...? I'll get him the blood...No, there isn't enough time...He's coming too...

            "Hello there.  It's me, Morbius.  You have only one option.  Obviously it is human nature to survive, and I don't know why you were on that pier bleeding and wounded, but I'm going to give you the choice whether you continue to walk planet Earth again.  You will die, either way, but you can still walk amongst the living, and continue on your journey, whatever that may be.  You are near the final destination now as we speak.  If you wish to become, immortal, let me know any way you can.  If not, I'll let you rest in peace—" Before Morbius could continue, the kid's hand grabbed Morbius by the collar.

            "Do it...do it," the kid said as his eyes struggled to stay open, but finally slammed shut.


	12. BLADE: Last Resort Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**The Safe house**

            The snake of white vans and box trucks came to a dusty stop in front of an industrial park.  There was not a single light in the abandoned complex.  The safe house workers flicked on flash lights in synchronized unison, and walked over to a common looking piece of pipe-work.  After he fiddled with something for a moment, a dashboard appeared in the hallow metal slug.

            Two of the box trucks turned on their lights again, and drove out of the park.  Out of the other vehicles, the ex-slaves began to emerge, and talking a lot more.

            "Bible John, where are they going?" Monica asked worriedly.

            "There isn't enough room at this shelter.  They're going to the next one, 'bout a mile down the road.  Don't worry, they'll be safe," Bible John assured her.

            Before Monica could reply, a large, elevator-like shiny steel door rose from the dusty earth.   

            "Isn't that a little high-tech?" Monica asked.

            "Well, most of the people in the shelters were in the military, NASA, NSA and all types of other organizations that had enormously secret technology at their disposal.  The Safe houses began popping up all over the country after the 'Vampires' Night Out' massacre, in which vampires across the country thought they could bring real terror to the world—it worked.  I personally helped build this one twelve years ago, about three years after the mass murder of thousands that night."

            "Yeah, I was young, but I'll never forget that day, Bible John," Monica replied in disgust.

            "Thankfully, we have some of the smartest people in the world developing new technology that is eventually going to help rid the world of the things..." Bible John said, but stopped as it sounded like he was preaching.  That wasn't his thing, rather, he intended to keep thinking, and doing.

            The two began to walk slowly to the queue that was formed outside of the elevator door.  Monica looked over to Blade, who was standing by the box truck, staring out into space.  He seemed as distant as ever and of course with good reason.  Most of his friends were killed this week.  She wanted to walk over to him, tell him how sorry she was, but she figured he would play it off, or possibly even ignore her.  

            Blade looked to her then, and she tried to look away, but instead she stared back at him, and invited him to walk with her and Bible John without saying a word; Blade just turned away, and stared into the blackness through dark sunglasses.

            A kid, around ten years old, walked over to Bible John.  He stood there a moment speechless, waiting for the tall man with glasses to see him first.  Bible John saw him after Monica.  She smiled, and bent down closer to his size.

            "Hi there," she said with the kindness of a mother.

            "Hi," the little boy said, and then looked back up to the Bible John.

            "Hello.  Can I help you?" Bible John asked sincerely.

            "What's 'Vampires' Night Out'?" the little kid asked.

            Both Bible John and Monica looked at each other, and didn't quite know how to handle the question.  Obviously this kid has seen more than his fair share of horrors.  He was a slave, probably grown up in that prison without parents, just uncaring wardens.  Bible John looked over at two of the ex-slaves who were walking with the kid; obviously trying to calm the boy after all he's witnessed today.  

            The two ex-slaves walked over to them, smiled and silently grabbed the kid by the hand as they progressed through the line.  The woman managed to give them a 'thank you' before speeding off.

            Monica and Bible John shared a smile, and followed the next group into the large, steel elevator.  Monica, again, looked to Blade, but he wasn't there.

            "It's ok.  He'll come in eventually.  He's probably just securing the area," Bible John tried to assure Monica.

*****

            A man sat on his Yamaha Warrior cruiser staring at the congregation of vehicles, and removed a bottle of Jack Daniels Sour Mash #7 Whiskey from under his brown leather coat.  After a swig, a cigarette was popped in his fanged mouth and let in the same motion, careful though not to let the people he was watching see the cherry or flame.  

            The man looked around at the group of people from a distance and through his long brown hair that was blowing with the cool night air, and finally found the man he was looking for.  He gave a little smirk, and shook his head side-to-side impressed.

            The people began to enter an elevator that seemed to be much out of place.  The smoking man just shrugged, and turned the ignition key on.  He pulled the clutch lever in and kicked the bike down into gear, and rode off knowing what he came looking for was here.  Further down the dark highway, he flicked the headlight on when he was safe out of view.

*****

            Blade finished his sweep of the area.  No vampires.  No Familiars.  

            There was a Safe house worker standing by the pipe with the circuit board ready to head below when Blade was ready.

            The man was in awe of the Daywalker, but didn't want to offend with asking him questions.  He was waiting for Blade's ok before bringing up the elevator.  But Blade wasn't ready just yet.  He had to put someone to rest.  He hopped up the rear of the box truck with grace, and removed Sonic's body, which was wrapped in a white sheet.

**            The worker was anxious to help if he could, but could only move around, nervously.  Blade noticed the man's honest attempt to help, and gestured for him to give him a hand with a slight nod. **

            Blade settled down on his cot, which Monica had made for him.  It was only moments before he was deep asleep.  Monica waited for Blade to fall asleep before laying her head down.  She got back up, anxiously, all of a sudden.  The fear was back.  The fear that the vampires were coming after them.  

            Once she looked behind her, however, the feeling somewhat dispersed.  There were over a dozen men with automatic rifles on this level alone.  They were ready; she could sleep now.  

            What a long day it was...

            Bible John let out a loud snore, and Monica laughed to herself before finally closing her eyes.  They were opened again by another loud snore, but this time the honor of heralding the loudest snore belonged to their champion himself: Blade.

            Blade was trying to get comfortable.  He was tossing and turning all night.  Half of the lights were on in the subterranean building, and that probably helped, as did some broken conversations.  

            He opened his eyes wide for a moment...

            _Blade_

            He heard his name whispered and echoed throughout the large hall.  He thought he was imagining it, and so he closed his eyes again.  Back to the tossing and turning...

            "Boo!" said someone next to Blade.

            He opened his eyes again, and to his utter disbelief, he saw someone that could not possibly be standing, or squatting rather, in front of him.

            Blade jumped back over his cot and reached for his sword.

            "Hey Blade."

            "What the fu—" Blade started.

            "What?  Did you expect me to be all transparent and smoky?  I'm a ghost, Blade, not a cartoon."

            "Frost."

            "You remember me, then?  Good," Frost said sarcastically with a smile.

            "How can this be?"

            "I have somethin' to tell you.  Someone, or somethin', wanted me here, so voila!  Cool, huh?  Another fuckin' reunion.  You're not getting' tired of me, are ya Blade?  I know I missed you."

            "What do you want?" Blade asked with the sword still by his side.

            "Enough of the chit chat, huh?  Ok.  Where I came from, good and evil are just the beginnings.  There's more to it than that, more to it than what's on the surface.  It's a grand game of metaphysical chess, Blade, and you're just a pawn," Frost said.

            "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

            "Well, that the feelings floating inside you: You want to quit.  You want to say the hell with it all!  Well don't!  Someone, or somethin', has bigger plans for the humans—they're not supposed to be slaves, in other words, Blade."

            "Again, what the hell's that supposed to mean?"

            "Feeling kinda blonde tonight, eh Blade?  It means once again that it's your destiny, to use such a clichéd word, to bring humanity back to the forefront of evolution and civilization.  Vampires aren't like they were thousands of years ago.  

            "They took an evolutionary wrong turn.  Evil is inherent to them.  They took on that persona after being perceived that way by humans for millennia.  Damaskinos the Elder is just a whipping boy, but without him and his delusions, the Vampire Nation will return to the shadows, and mankind can step up to their "God given" place in the universe.  Deep isn't it?" Frost finished.

            Blade noticed he couldn't smell Frost.  He couldn't see the vampiric blood within him.  He didn't see the fangs, or the contempt in his eyes.  The fire, the innate malevolence Frost was taking about, was gone.  

            "I'm not a vampire anymore.  Vampires have no place in this realm.  Nor does many man-made concepts, but that's another story entirely.  You can stay here and fight all the vampires you wish for as long as you want, but that won't bring your mother back.  That won't bring Rossi or his dad back, or anyone back.  But if you go to the Elder, and finish him, you can save unimaginable lives in the process..." Blade proclaimed.

            Blade dropped the sword on the cot.

            "Oh, and just so you know Blade, you didn't kill me.  La Magra, the Blood God killed me when the Spirits of the 12 entered my body.  I can't let you have that satisfaction, even in the afterlife," Deacon Frost said triumphantly with a wry smile.

            Frost turned around and began to walk away.  Before he reached the door, his body turned transparent and misty, and blew away with a breeze that appeared out of nowhere.  

            Blade sat back on the cot, and for a long moment sat in thought.  He must be dreaming—he was delirious!  Ok, back to the restless sleep.

            Monica gently woke Blade up by tapping him on his shoulder.  He didn't want to get up.

            "Ok, stay in bed.  Me and Bible are going to get some breakfast—oh, is this your mother?"

            Blade awoke quite startled that he would hear someone say those words.  He turned around to see her, and she was looking at a picture.  He grabbed the picture from her hands and looked at it.  A tear rose up in his eye.

            "Where did you get this?" he asked.

            "It was right here beside you on the cot," Monica pointed.  "She's beautiful."

            Blade continued to look at the picture, and thought about his dream last night, with Frost.  

            "So it wasn't a dream..." Blade said quietly.

            "What?" Monica asked.

            "Never mind.  Go and get your breakfast."


	13. BLADE: Last Resort Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

            Under several layers of concrete and earth lays the American government's second facility of hope and last chance.  From here, the remaining staff of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the President and all his men plan to take back their country, and their world—the humans' world.  From this large scale shop in Baltimore, Maryland—which is located under an old industrial park and railroad station—and through the internet, people are beginning to rally against the vampires.  

            A man is sitting at a computer, browsing through page after page of anti-vampire propaganda set up by hackers everywhere who are trying to enrage the people enough to finally become vigilant once again.  He stumbled onto another page: www.geocities.com/elton_alwine/bladeisback.html, which made him jump out of his seat in elation.  The mythical vampire hunter Blade had set hundreds of humans free from a compound in New York.

            Another man in another room grabbed a bunch of papers and headed out of his office.  He ran down the hall and entered another room where a few men and women were chatting.  They looked up at him with disgust for interrupting their conversation.

            "I think I got it," the man said spitting a pencil out of his mouth.

            "Think you've got what exactly, Edwards?" The man at the top of the table asked.

            "Well, Mr. Secretary Piper, I have about four different UV emitting devices that we can set up by day in rural and urban areas of the city.  If it works here, we'll send the plans to all the major cities...but," the engineer stopped.

            "But, what, Edwards?" the female next to the man asked.

            "Well, it's gonna take a while to build, with such short resources.  But I'm gonna get started on some preliminary samples right away so we can begin testing them on our subjects.  We do have subjects left, don't we?" Edwards asked the group.

            The group, lead by former Secretary of State Rod Piper, walked down a long, blue-white colored hallway.  They were cleared at several armed checkpoints before being allowed into the next.  Each member had to show a pass as they entered the next hallway.

            "Have you ever been down here, Edwards?" Secretary Piper asked.

            "Uh, no, sir.  I haven't been down here before," replied Edwards looking at the other members.

            "So, tell me a little more about these new weapons, Edwards," demanded the Secretary.

            "Ok...well, one of the designs will be to set a few dozen UV-emitting bulbs in the air, scattered in strategic locations to consume as much area as possible, obviously; I'm talking several hundred watts per unit here.  I have several ideas of how to do this: the more sensible way would be for us to hang them on the bottom of balloons, but the balloons could easily be shot down from a distance.  The other way is to get them in the air and have them constantly moving, like under blimps, or other floatation devices.  

            "Troy downstairs is working on a few propeller-based projects now that are extremely light-weight and small as hell, but the batteries only have a limited amount of hang-time," Edwards said, catching his breath.

            "And you have a sample ready to use downstairs?" the Secretary asked.

            "Uh, yes, sir.  We do...we do have something ready, just groundwork stuff though."

            "Will you be able to give us a demonstration, Edwards?"

            "Sure.  Yeah, I can show, but...do you mean on a specimen?" Edwards asked in shock.

            "No, Edwards, on us.  Of course we mean on a specimen.  How else can we see how it works?" the Secretary said as he entered a large double clear door and passed a couple of armed guards in fatigues.  "Dr. Xaus.  How are you?"

            "I'm doing well, Mr. Secretary.  What's the visit for?" the older Spanish doctor asked as he shook the Secretary's hand.

            "I'd like to borrow one of your subjects, if I may."

            "You'd like to borrow one of the vampires?" the doctor asked hesitantly.

            "Yes.  Edwards here, one of our engineers from NASA has a few new toys, and I'd like to see if they work.  We need to get something off the ground here, and soon.  It's been near two decades, and we're only getting older while they up there stay the same and get stronger.  I'd say it's about time..." the Secretary finished.

            "Ok...Neil, Chris.  Let's grab one of the subjects," Dr. Xaus ordered. 

            "Which one, Doc.?" The taller of the two assistants asked.

            "Crease.  He's an asshole," said the Doctor who got everyone to laugh.

            The shorter assistant beat on the thick fiberglass cage to wake the vampire who was sleeping off some drugs to shut him up.  The cage was placed under the large bulb that was hanging from a makeshift crane.  

            "Crease.  How are you buddy?" asked Secretary Piper.

            "Suck...my...co—" but the vampire was cut off.

            "Yeah, that's nice, who cares?  Do me a favor, would you?  Let me know how bad this hurts," the Secretary asked the vampire just before a switch was flicked, and the room lit up as bright as the sun itself.  The only sound before the screams was of the humming of the electricity coursing its way to the monstrous human-sized bulb.

            After five seconds, the light was switched off, and the group removed their safety glasses.

            Ashes.

            There was applause throughout the room, and the Secretary patted Edwards on the shoulder.  

            "Now, you and your team need to get busy building a lot more of these, things, Edwards," the Secretary shouted.

            "Well, that's the problem, Mr. Secretary.  We don't have the resources or tools to begin a mass-production assembly line.  

            "Let me know what it's going to take, and I'll talk to the man in charge, and we'll get this done," the Secretary said as he and his staff turned and left the room.

            "Good job, Edwards," said Dr. Xaus with a thumbs up.

            "Yeah, right on," said one of the assistants.  The other gave him a wink.

            "Man it was cool seeing that bloodsucker burn like that!" Edwards finished as he left the room.  


	14. BLADE: Last Resort Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**Central Park******

            Four Blackhawk helicopters remained hovering twenty feet off the ground as the one in the middle landed gracefully on the shiny, wet asphalt, sending spray spiraling around the base.  Damaskinos' glyph was painted on the sides of each in red.

            "Send the others off," Udokeir said with a wave of his hand, and placing the black velvet hood back over his head.  A pale man wearing black army fatigues gave the pilot issues to command the other Blackhawks drop off their units to various locations around Manhattan.  

            The four remaining suspended choppers fled in different, opposite directions without a sound, though the force from their propellers was quite violent.  Three vampires exited the grounded Blackhawk with Udokeir, including Tashum, his Pureblood apprentice.  

            "And contrary to what Damaskinos has ordered, I'd like the Daywalker taken alive," Udokeir said coolly through misty rain.  And the vampire nearest Udokeir, strapping his M-16 to his shoulder, radioed to the other Blackhawks, instructing them not to kill, only contain, the Daywalker.  The other vampire pet, as Udokeir so affectionately referred to them, walked to Udokeir's other side, and waited for instructions.

            "I can take care of myself, pet.  You know what you two have to do," Udokeir said to the timid undead soldier.  

            "Sorry, sir, I just thought that I could show you around, I uh, used to live here in New York.  I figured..." the pet tried to say, but Udokeir just looked at him, stunned.

            "Thank you, pet, but spare me.  I'm not here as a tourist.  I think I can find my way around, don't you think?"

            "Right, ok," the pet said as he looked at the other, and headed into the darkness of the park.

***

            The motorcycle came to a skidding, tire-screeching stop, and the ignition was flicked off, as was the cigarette out of his mouth.  He kicked the sidestand down, and walked closer to the sidewalk of the deserted street.  

            "Well what do we have here?" he said as he watched four helicopters silently lift-off and fly away in separate directions.  Another chopper sat in the middle, and while people exited it, the lights were switched off.  

***

            "But sir, the Statue of Liberty, the resurrected World Trade Center, there is so much to see," said the vampire behind Udokeir sarcastically.  The rain glinted on his tattooed forehead and light blue eyes.

            With something that could be considered a chuckle, "Tashum, your humor, it touches my heart.  And unless you want my sword to pierce yours, I'd start looking for the Daywalker."

            "Well if you put it that way, Udo.  I'll be sure to radio you if and when I find Blade," Tashum said with a wink and a smile before speeding off into the fog between trees.

            "And do remember what I said, Tashum.  Alive."

            Udokeir looked around.  He didn't know where to start.  Maybe he should've kept the pet after all.  For all he knew, Blade wasn't even in Manhattan any longer.   He spotted a small group of the undead at the edge of the street, looking on curiously as the helicopters fled in all directions, and then their focus was turned to the extravagantly dressed Udokeir.  He then clenched his arms behind his back and casually walked to the on looking vampires.

***

            He flicked another cigarette into his mouth and lit it, and then putting the Zippo back into a jacket pocket.  He walked along the street in the darkness strafing the hooded vampire.  Some of the vampires backed away some as the man walked up to them.  Some tried to look tough, but they were scared nonetheless.  The hooded vampire began speaking to them, in the ancient tongue, but he couldn't make out the conversation.  He needed to get closer.

***

            "Vampires, and you don't speak our language.  That's pitiful.  The Daywalker, have any of you seen him?" Udokeir said in English with his eyes hidden behind the hood.

            "No, but we heard he's around here.  He freed a bunch of human slaves earlier.  I guess he's on another crusade," said one of the vampires.

            "You guess he's on another crusade, do you?  Hmm."

            "What are you looking for him for?  He's probably dead now," said another vampire as she tried to look under the hood to see his face.

            "That's what I'm here to see to.  That he stays dead this time," Udokeir said to the young female vampire who tried again to see under the hood.  She was beautiful, and he quaintly licked his lips.  He was hungry.

            "Why are you wearing a hood?" she asked.

            "Where do you keep your food?" Udokeir ignored her question, but silently said something to the female: _I want you.  She was beautiful; he no longer cared where they kept their human blood._

            "Hey, food's scarce, man.  Gonna have to find your own," before he could finish, the hooded vampire was on top of the female.  His lust was primal and animalistic as he tore the flesh from her jugular.  Blood poured from the wound and dripped off his chin.  The two male vampires tried to stop Udokeir, but that was futile; with a wave of his hand, the two men were stopped in their tracks, arms outstretched, frozen. 

            As the last of the blood was drained from her, the limp, dead body was dropped from his arms and landed with a fleshy thud.  Her hollow body cracked and the skin receded in a gray, almost stone-like appearance.  Udokeir stomped on her torso and the body exploded in gray ashes.

            The two frozen vampires stared on in disgust and fright.  Udokeir removed his rapier blade from its satchel.  He stared at the edge a moment, and looked up at the two with a smile.

            "I want you to help me, spread the word to all vampires.  I'm calling Blade out.  I want him here," Udokeir said, letting go of his telekinetic grip on their bodies.  The two scared vampires ran in the opposite direction after a nod.

***

            Well he heard that.  The hooded vampire wants Blade too.  With a swig of the #7, he wiped his mouth and began to walk over to his bike.  While walking, he looked back over to the hooded vampire, and he saw him too under the hood.  He removed his hood to get a better look, and turned his way.  He began to walk slowly in his direction.  

            He dropped the bottle of whiskey back into his jacket and reached for his keys.  After flicking the bike on, he noticed a shiny glint in the dark fog.  In an instant he grabbed at a bag on the side of his Yamaha and removed his sword: a steel-hilted Agincourt.  It was just enough time as the hooded vampire was in the air and bringing it down in front of his face.  His cigarette was cut down the middle in front of his face the side.

            He brought his sword up to block it and with a kick, he sent the hooded vampire back enough for him to get off of the bike.

            "Well.  If it isn't the legendary Hannibal King: Vampire hunter extraordinaire," Udokeir claimed triumphantly.

            "Sorry I can't introduce you so flatteringly," King said as he spit out the mini-cigarette from his mouth.

            "But it is ok, for it doesn't matter who I am.  You'll not live long enough to remember it..." Udokeir said arrogantly.

            "You are as arrogant as you look," King said as he brought the medieval blade down in front of Udokeir who all too easily blocked the slash.  

            "Still playing the pitiful quasi-human part, King?" Udokeir asked sardonically.  

            After becoming infected with vampirism by Deacon Frost, King has struggled to keep his thirst at bay.  He refuses to feed from human, at least live ones.  But now, more than ever, the hunger for blood was rising in his mind.

            "You gonna keep talking, or do you wanna piece of me?"

            "King, don't you realize we have won?  We are the dominant species; we rule and are no longer hiding in the shadows.  Why can't you join us?  What is left for you to accomplish?"

            "I'd still like to take off your head."

            Udokeir smiled, and realized he would not kill the hunter—yet.  He may be of more use to him alive.  Blade would surely come to save his friend.

            "Ok, King.  If that's how you want things," Udokeir said before a fury of swings.  

            King could only parry so many of the attacks.  He was cut in the stomach, deep.  He clutched the wound, now only using one hand to defend himself.  It was only moments now.  Another swing and the sword was knocked from his sweaty hand.  

            Udokeir kicked Hannibal King in the face, and unconsciousness settled in as he heard laughter.


	15. BLADE: Last Resort Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Manhattan,    Frankfort Street**

            Morbius sat on his brown leather chair patiently.  He listened to each second the clock ticked away.  The kid's eyes cracked open for a moment, and then closed again.  The kid looked worn—he had been shot, twice, but still had a weathered look about him.  He has been fighting vampires obviously, maybe for survival, maybe because he thinks he's Superman.

            His eyes opened again.

            "Hello, Rossi.  Welcome to eternity," Morbius said as he helped him off of the couch.  

            He looked at the man speaking through squinted eyes.  He was curious.  "How'd you know my name?" asked a weary Rossi rubbing his eyes and temples.

            "I pulled it from your mind before Dr. Schiller and I gave you the blood transfusion.  I'm Michael Morbius, but you can call me Morbius."

            "Well, you can call me Rossi."  He then put his hands back to his face and head.

            "Ok . . . Rossi it is then."

            Rossi tried, but he couldn't stand.  There was something in his equilibrium, something foreign.  He fell back on the couch, and threw his head back on the cushion.  

            "It's ok, you're just getting used to the blood that's in your body: the vampiric blood.  But it is not like the blood that flows through your hated enemies; it's different, made.  The same blood which courses through my veins.  

            "You have certain, agilities, which normal vampires, most of them anyway, do not possess.  Flight, being probably the most difficult you will have coming to terms with," Morbius continued.

            "Flight?  Ah, that's right, I remember a little now . . . but I'm a vampire . . ." Rossi said holding his head in his hand.  Startled, he asked, "Did you hear that?"

            "Hear what, Rossi?"

            "That scream.  And voices, they're muffled, but I hear friggin' voices!" Rossi said panicky.  

            Morbius smiled.  "Yes, Rossi, I heard the scream, and the voices.  Just apart of your new enhanced senses.  Eventually they'll drown out, and you will be able to block them at will.  It will take time."

            "Feels like I just let out a huge ball of earwax," Rossi said plugging his ear with a finger.

            "Interesting way of putting it," Morbius said with his eyebrows up high.  

            Rossi rubbed his right shoulder where he was shot.  There was a fresh bandage atop it.  The wound was no longer painful.  

            "I was shot, wasn't I? Rossi asked looking at the covered wound.

            "You were, twice.  By tomorrow, you won't need those bandages," Morbius said with enchantment.  

            "Try this: walk towards me," Morbius said while walking around the bar that separated the living room with the kitchen.  "But don't open your eyes; just let your instincts guide you."

            "What?"

            "Trust me."

            "'K . . ."

            Rossi stood up and fell once more on the couch.  He got up, and with the wave of his hands, managed to take a step.  Then he got the hang of walking again, and headed for where Morbius was standing.

Morbius casually, and quietly, walked around to the other side of the living room dodging a couple of chairs, including his comfy leather recliner.  

            "Keep your eyes closed, Rossi, but walk to me over here now," Morbius said.

            "Huh."

            With his eyes closed, he turned in Morbius' direction, and began to walk to him.  Without opening his eyes, Rossi inadvertently stepped between two chairs, a stool, some books lying on the floor and a computer desk and stopped a foot in front of Morbius.

            "Ok, open your eyes."

            "Right.  And that was for..." Rossi asked.

            "Look behind you."

            Rossi turned around and looked at his surroundings.  He turned back to Morbius loosing patients.

            "What is your point, Morbius?"

            "Rossi, your eyes were closed, yet you safely navigated your way through the living quarters.  I wanted to bring to your attention the fact that you can do things, without opening your eyes.  You have, thanks to your vampire bat blood, sonar of your own.  It's a precognition of sorts," Morbius said.  "Let me show you something else."

            Rossi sluggishly followed Morbius to the terrace.  Morbius breathed in the night air, and Rossi continued to feel dizzy and disoriented.  So many new feelings . . . He could hear new noises: rats scurrying, birds—or were they bats?—flying, people making love, vampires feeding.  He thought he would throw up, but resisted.  He could smell the heat leaving the earth with the coming of the cool night air.  The salt water, he could taste it on his tongue.  He heard Morbius before he spoke aloud.

            Morbius looked over to Rossi, "Jump."

            Rossi gave him a look of self-disgust, "What?"

            "Go ahead, jump.  Use your mind to guide you."

            "Right.  Not right now, Morbius.  Maybe later, huh?"

            "What, are you scared?" Morbius asked mockingly.  

            Rossi gave him another incredulous look.

            "You'll live." Morbius continued cynically.  

            "Wow.  You're really into this whole teacher-student thing, huh?"

            "You want to survive, do you not?"

            Rossi did want to survive.  He looked at Morbius and thought of his mom, who was slaughtered in front of him and his dad, raped of her blood after the rape of her being; he thought of his dad, and the moment he was slain more specifically.  And he thought about his friend Sonic, and the great times and the bad times and . . . just the times . . .  He thought of his friend and mentor, Blade, whom . . .

            "You know Blade?" Morbius interjected upon his thoughts inconsiderately as he pulled the image of the legendary warrior from his mind.  He continued, "I'm sorry to interrupt your train of thought, but you know the Daywalker?"

            "Yeah, well, no.  I know of him, I've seen him fight before," Rossi replied on the side of caution.  

            "Oh, I thought you said he was your mentor."

            "No.  Maybe only in spirit," Rossi said looking back over the balcony.  He decided to try something.  He jumped from the terrace in hopes of controlling his newly acquired immortal powers for the first time.  He looked down as the ground pulled him down in its material grip.  He heard Morbius speak to him, like a whisper, 'control it with your mind.'

            Maybe not the first time.  

            He landed the wrong way on his right leg that twisted it under himself completely in a disgusting sound of shattering bones that cracked the quiet night air.  His scream followed, as did Morbius' flying body to retrieve him.  He was, again, picked up by the vampire, whom he now recognized as a friend for saving him a second time, as vagabond vampires slithered into the darkness of shadows.  

            "Oh my God that hurts!" Rossi yelled in a fit of anger, saliva flinging from his mouth.

            "You need to feed," Morbius said as he landed on top of the balcony.  He set the young and hurt vampire on the couch, and walked to a hidden compartment behind a picture . . .

            "It's called the Triumph of Death, by..." Morbius said as to finish Rossi's thoughts pertaining the chaotic painting.  He pulled on a lever, and typed a few keys into a keyboard, and another hatch opened and revealed white smoke with a large case.  Morbius brought the case over to Rossi, and opened it up.  Several containers filled with blood were placed on the table.  

            "It tastes much better warm, but for now, this will suffice.  Here, drink," Morbius said handing Rossi a large vial of the crimson liquid sustenance.  "Besides, keeping it warm will destroy the essence that keeps us alive, the plasma itself."

            His hands were shaking from the pain as he clutched the vial.  He greedily consumed the entire sixteen ounces of the vial, and looked at Morbius silently begging for more.

            With a smile, "Of course you can have some more."

            The pain slowly diminished.  Incredible.  The blood flowed through each and every vein in his body, and he could feel the electricity as it attached atoms to his body.  He was engulfed by the euphoria as much as the pain.  He gave way to seizure, however slight.  

            "The first time is always the best, though you'll probably never tire of it," Morbius said as he reached for another vial.  "Don't worry, I have plenty . . . I reproduce it myself.  Cloning: a miraculous thing."

            After the seizure wore off, and he regained loss senses, or rather adapted to the new sensations, he grabbed the third vial.  "You reproduce your own blood?"  Rossi asked in shock.

            "Not my own blood, but human blood.  It took me around twenty years to figure it out, though I don't entirely deserve all the credit."

            Rossi looked to his straightened and elevated leg, which fifteen minutes ago was broken in numerous places.  It was still broke, but he could feel the blood within him reconstructing the damage, and the pain had fairly departed.

            "It's fuckin' amazing, Morbius!  If only all humans could do this . . ."

            "Humans, Rossi, if only humans could do this," Morbius interrupted politely.

            "What?"

            "You were referring to the fact that humans can not regenerate as fast as _we do.  You are a vampire now, Rossi, and nothing can change that.  You may keep your humanity-bred morals and ethics, as hard as you may try, but have no doubt that you are a creature of the night," Morbius said to Rossi's disappointing revelation._

            "I know, Morbius, I know.  I just think if humans could . . . never mind," Rossi finished sitting the vial on the table.  

            "They will never live in peace.  That is only a dream; reality is much harsher than we ever imagined it would be."

*****

**Prague**

**            An icy finger rubbed the old parchment paper and turned it over.  The text that lined each page, in blood, was of no text known to man.  In the archaeological and anthropology world of days past, it would have netted immeasurable wealth.  But no human would ever see this book, scribed in the Tongue of the Ancients, the vampire's language, eons ago.  **

            "To enter another's body, the soul must be removed, completely, which upon can never be reinstated.  Simple words cannot commit the act; rather one must travel the distance, but not physically," read the vampire overlord silently in English, barely audible over the flickering flames in the hearth.  

            He turned another sheet, after finishing the page, and then closed the book.  He wanted to try his little 'ace up the sleeve' before it was forgotten in his vast and quite useless memory.  He shut his eyes and leaned back on the cold of the stone throne, and with his mind, reached out to people he had never met before, at least in person.  Instead, he called out to people whom knew the Daywalker, and initiated a new journey.

            Gone were the sounds and smells of the headquarters and Prague.  Gone was the feeling of being physically attached to the body.  Gone were all physical restrictions . . .

            He walked a path of blindness, but soon shapes and colors appeared, and disappeared just as fast.  Sounds became perceptible here and there: voices, heart beats and waves crashing.  Hundreds of voices and heart beats, but slowly they narrowed to a few.  He could smell their ethereal scent over the cosmic distances.

            He saw, through the eyes of another, a man with long dark hair.  He heard words: humans, vampires, blah, blah, blah . . . Blade!  And he nearly felt the warmth of the blood in a large vial in his hand.  

***

            Rossi grabbed his head in a cringe, and dropped the blood vial.  Both hands were rubbed along his temples and forehead, then on to the base of his nose.  He tried to stand, but the pain in his leg shot him back to the couch violently.

            "Rossi!  Are you ok?  What's wrong?" Morbius asked in concern.  He was shocked.  He didn't know what was wrong with him, but knew it wasn't right.  Rossi didn't respond, but for an instant cracked a smile, then seemed to lose consciousness for a moment.

***

            The path of blindness again presented itself as Damaskinos pulled himself back to bodily reality.  His smile was wide, the teeth glaring against the moonlight and fire.  His intentions were not for nothing, and he found the right man for the job.  And now he wanted to feed.

            He ordered another servant to bring him a human telepathically, and in seconds was fulfilled.  A young female was thrown to his robed feet, and he picked her up gently, and rubbed a finger down her lips before she could scream.  

            He turned her around and rubbed his pelvis on her hip.  She closed her eyes in fear, and he closed his eyes in ecstasy.  The power this granted him was endless, he thought silently.  He sent her images of her playing with her parents in those days long past.  He rubbed it in her face that his species now ruled the planet.  He destroyed her mentally first, then utterly physically.  He opened her jugular vein with a slash of his fingernail, and lapped up the blood that flowed from her fount.  

            He ripped her head off first, and tossed it into the burning fire.  The rest of her body followed, flying haplessly through the air like a doll.  Again he sat, and closed his eyes.

***

            "Rossi.  Rossi!" Morbius continued.

            "What?  What, Morbius?!" Rossi responded.

            "What's wrong?  You were gripping your head, obviously in pain."

            "I don't know, I don't remember," Rossi said looking confused.

            Morbius looked down at the broken vial and spilled blood.  He picked up the pieces, and grabbed a cloth to pick up the cherry life.  

            "Did I drop that, Morbius?"

            "You did, Rossi.  It's ok, I've got more," Morbius said assuring the new vampire it was ok.

***

**            Damaskinos opened the book to another chapter.  He wanted to learn more tricks; the tricks that would turn the tide of the war; the war that he and his House of Erebus were losing, thanks to his vampire enemies.  The House of Ancients and House of Shadows were killing his vampires the world over, and in turn, doing Damaskinos the biggest favor they could have unwittingly done: initiated a war of the fittest.  Only the strong would survive, and that's all the Elder could ask for of his great race.**

            The sun crested over the horizon in bright purple and blue.  Damaskinos felt the warmth, and retired to the subterranean vault.  Here, he could bathe in blood for all eternity, night or day.  But instead, he wanted to rest and enter the metaphysical realm once more.


End file.
